PN 

4m 

.£)53 






^i 



■ i 












■_ 

■ 




Boofc-.D S 3 

GcpiglitK 



C8PHUGHT DEPOSIT. 



( 

DICK'S 



DIALOGUES AND MONOLOGUES 



CONTAINING 



H3i 

3$. 



DIALOGUES, MONOLOGUES, PARLOR SKETCHES 



FAROES AND PETITE COMEDIES 



ALL ENTIRELY ORIGINAL 



EXPRESSLY DESIGNED FOR PARLOR PERFORMANCES 



EDITED By 

WILLIAM B^DICK 

NEW YORK 

DICK & FITZGERALD PUBLISHERS 

18 ANN STREET 



\ 



T<1 



COPTEIGHT, 1885, BT 
DICK & FITZQERALD. 



PREFACE. 



In this collection of Dialogues and Monologues, the desir- 
able feature of Variety has been secured by combining in 
one volume the best efforts of several authors, every piece 
being entirely original, and written expressly for the pur- 
pose. 

They are all fairly within the scope of youthful amateurs, 
and at the same time possess, in an unusual degree, 
dramatic effects and telling situations, furnishing excellent 
material for advancing young aspirants in the Thespian 
Art ; and the marked simplicity of costume and scene 
renders them specially adapted for home and parlor per- 
formance. 

The Monologues may, perhaps, tax the performer's capa- 
bilities somewhat more than usual, the action being sus- 
tained by only one person, but they are comparatively a 
new departure, and are in eager demand. 

In the hope that it may be found to merit their hearty 
approval, this contribution of fresh material for the enter- 
tainment of the youth of both sexes is offered to them by 

THE EDITOR. 



CONTENTS 



All at Sea Comedietta 3 

Sara's Conversion Darkey Dialogue ... 2 

Revelations of a Pocket .... Monologue 1 

At Cross Purposes Dialogue 1 

Ze Daylight Veel Coam. . . .Dialect Sketch 3 

A Bad Habit Cured Dialogue 3 

Love in a Cottage Petite Comedy 3 

A Trip to Blankytlle Monologue 1 

Unexpected Company Dialogue 4 

A Slight MisuNDEBSTANDiNG.Comedietta 2 

The Wonderful Lamp Monologue 1 

Three Brave Men Dialogue 4 

Sykes's Predicament - . .Farce 1 

Pity the Poor Blind Monologue 1 

Too Clever by Half Comedietta 2 

The Rose-Colored Note Domestic Drama. . .2 

A Midnight Episode Monologue 1 

A Runaway Match Parlor Play 4 

The Wrong Man Comedietta 2 

Tom's Proposal Dialogue 2 

Mr. Hunter's Mistake Domestic Drama. . .2 

A Freend at Court .Comedietta 3 



PAGE 

males 2 females . . 7 

males 2 females . . 20 

male 24 

male..... 1 female... 27 

males 1 female ... 32 

males 2 females . . 38 

males .... 2 females . . 41 

male 57 

males 2 females . . 60 

males 3 females.. 66 

male 77 

males 2 females . . 79 

male 5 females . . 86 

male 101 

males.... 2 females.. 104 

males 1 female . . . 116 

male 123 

males 1 female . . . 125 

males 2 females . . 131 

males .... 1 female . . . 140 
males .... 5 females . . 146 
males .... 3 females . . 160 



ALL AT SEA; 

OB, 

A MOENTNG'S TEOUBLES. 

AN ORIGINAL COMEDIETTA, IN ONE ACT. 

By HARRY GREY FISKE, GEORGE VANDENHOFF, Jb., AND CHAS. L. 
BURNHAM. 



Costumes. — Matne: undress naval uniform, white cap. Somebs: dark 
morning dress. Grants: white waiter's jacket, duck trowsers, red vest, 
large collar and flowing tie, white linen shoes, red crop-wig. Mks. Sos 
muslin morning dress. Rose Leigh: the same as Mns. Somebs. 

CHABACTJEBS. 

Lieut. Harry Mayne, U. S. N. I Me. John Somebs. 
Bbtjtus Pizabeo Grills. I Mbs. Somebs. 

Eose Leigh. 



SCENE. — Parlor of a Hotel ; doors b. and l. 
Grills discovered dusting furniture. 

Grills. Dust, dust, dust ! And the more I dust, the more 
dust I make ! A nice occupation this for a man of my talents 
and abilities. To think that I, instead of responding to the en- 
thusiastic shouts and calls of appreciative multitudes at Niblo's, 
am compelled to trudge up flight after flight of stairs in answer 
to the ring of impatient and insatiable boarders, who little dream 
of the latent genius and histrionic talent which lie dormant in 
the breast of Brutus Pizarro Grills, the unappreciated man-oi- 
all-work at the Atlantic Hotel. Two years ago last Fourth of 
July, I became, for the first time, aware of the heaven-given 
powers which slumbered in my manly bosom, and was inspired 
with a wild and unquenchable longing for dramatic laurels. To 
many managers have I offered my invaluable talents, at the very 
lowest, in fact, I may say, at "hard-pan" terms; but, alas ! blind 
to their own interests, one and all condemned me unheard, and 

Copyright, 1879, by Pics & Fitzgerald. 



8 ALL AT 6EA. 

as one can't live on water and air, I was compelled to accept em- 
ployment of a sort far from congenial to my poetic nature. I 
nave little time at present to indulge in nights of fancy, for the 
house is filled with guests whose wants are unceasing. Even 
to-day more arrivals are expected, but it seems that I have a few 
moments to myself. There's no one near, the coast is clear, and 
how can I better employ this unusual opportunity than by giv- 
ing vent to my pent-up longings, and running over one of my 
favorite characters? 
( With exaggerated action and emphasis.) 
" I am thy father's spirit, 

Doomed for a certain term to walk the night. 

But that I am forbid 

To tell the secret of my prison-house, 

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 

Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; 

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres; 

Thy knotted and combined locks to part, 

And each particular hair to stand on end, 

Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. 

if thou didst ever thy dear father love, 

List, list, oh, list ! — " 
Voice (without). Grills ! 

Gkells. 'Twas ever thus ! I must dissemble ! (a bell rings vio- 
lently). 

" 1 go, and it is done — 

The bell invites me. Hear it not, 

Duncan, for 'tis a knell 

That summons thee to heaven or to hell !" [Exit^ R. 

Getlls (outside). This way, sir, this way ! That'll be all right. 

Enter Getlls with satchel, followed by Lieut. Mayne. 

Your room is No. 65, sir. Shall I show you to it, sir ? 

Mayne. Not at present; you may take up my luggage. 

Gbills. That'll be all right, sir ! [Exit, l. 

Mayne. Well, here I am at Wells. How surprised Kose will be 
to see me. Strange that Mr. Somers' party should have left the 
city without telling me of their intended departure. I saw them 
not a week before they left, yet nothing of the sort was men- 
tioned. That the subject was intentionally avoided I am quite 
certain. Could this have been Eose's own idea, or was it on ac- 
count of a growing coldness I have recently noticed in her 
brother-in-law, Somers? That Mrs. Somers likes me I know; 
that Kose has no aversion to me — I hope. How utterly I am in 
love with that girl, and in so short a time, too ! I, who have vis- 
iter! all quarters of the earth, and have seen the most beautiful 
women of every nation, and have been entirely indifferent to all 
their charms and fascinations, at last become a ready captive to 
a young girl fresh from school, and am prepared, at the slightest 



ALL AT SEA. 9 

encouragement from her, to strike my flag, and yield uncondi- 
tional surrender. Luckily, having met an intimate friend of the 
family yesterday in the city, I learned that they were spending 
the season here — and, as a natural consequence, here I am. 
(glancing at his watch.) There is still some time before dinner; 
perhaps I may catch a glimpse of them. Ah ! Fortune favors 
me, for, as I live, here comes Eose herself. 

Enter Eose, b. 

Eose. Can it be possible ! Lieutenant Mayne ! 

Mayne. He and no other. Congratulate me, Miss Leigh, on 
having procured an extension of my furlough, which enables me 
to escape from the heat of the city for a few weeks. 

Eose. I do congratulate you most heartily. What a pleasant 
surprise your arrival will be to Kitty and Mr. Somers ! But how 
came you to fix on such a quiet spot as this to spend the remain- 
der of your leave of absence ? 

Mayne. Can you not guess ? 

Eose (shyly). How could I? 

Mayne. I learned yesterday that you were here, and that 
knowledge at once settled in my mind any hesitation that I 
might have had as to where I should go. You must know that — 

Enter Grills, r. 

Grills. Hem ! Beg pardon, miss, Mr. and Mrs. Somers are 
waiting for you on the piazza. 

Eose. Ask them to step in here, please. 

Grills. That'll be all right, miss. [Exit Grills, r. 

Eose (confusedly). You can't imagine how — how surprised 
they will be to see you, and — 

Mayne. I am sure I shall be charmed to meet them again. 

Enter Me. and Mrs. Somers, r. 

Mrs. Somers. Ah ! my dear Lieutenant ! You dear, delight- 
ful man, how glad we all are to see you ! When did you arrive ? 
Why didn't you send word you were coming ? How long do you 
intend to remain? Jack, Jack dear, here's the Lieutenant; don't 
you see the Lieutenant, Jack dear? 

Mayne (advancing hand). How are you, Somers ? 

Somers (coldly). How do you do, sir? (to Mrs. S.) My dear, 
I am going out for a smoke. Eose, can I speak with you a mo- 
ment? 

Eose. Certainly. [Exit Eose and Mr. S., r. 

Mayne. Your husband seems charmed to see me. The cor- 
diality of his reception was quite marked. 

Mrs. Somers. You mustn't mind Jack's manner. You know 
at times he is quite brusque without meaning to give offence. 



10 AUj AT SEA. 

Mayne. I am afraid, however, that it does mean something in 
the present instance, as I have for some time past noticed a cold- 
ness on Mr. Soniers' part which occasionally approaches open 
dislike. I am all the more sorry for this as I can think of no 
way in which I have given him offence, and I confess I wish his 
friendship for very particular reasons. You must have seen, 
Mrs. Somers, that I have become strongly interested in your sis- 
ter; in fact, I love her dearly. I have never hinted this to her, 
and am not at all sure that my feelings meet with a response. 
If, in this state of affairs, I incur the dislike of your husband, I 
most certainly do not benefit my cause. May I hope, my dear 
madame, that I still retain your good opinion, and that I can rely 
on your friendship to aid me with Rose ? 

Mrs. Somers. My dear Lieutenant, I am charmed, I am more 
than delighted. Though but a poor diplomatist, I feel quite 
sure I can help you. You certainly have my best wishes and 
heartiest sympathies. 

Matne {taking her hand). I thank you, oh, so much ! How 
good you are ! I knew I could rely upon you, and now, with 
your valuable assistance (enter Somers, r., unseen) I must succeed. 
{kisses her hand. ) I must leave you and arrange my toilet for 
dinner. Good-by for the present. [Exit, l. 

Somers {advancing). What the devil has brought him here? 
Perhaps you kindly invited him ? 

Mrs. Somers. Why, my dear, what is the matter ? I am not 
aware of ever having mentioned this place to the Lieutenant. 
Was both surprised and delighted to see him. But you seemed 
very cool; so much so that he remarked it. Surely you were not 
sorry to see him ? 

Somers. But I was. I do not like the fellow, and you know it, 
and, I really believe, are trying to annoy me. He is a conceited 
puppy, and if the women here are such idiots as I suspect they 
will be in his regard, by Heaven ! my family shall not follow 
their pretty example, and you, madame, will kindly bear this in 
mind. 

Mrs. Somers. Why, Jack, what is the matter ? I don't under- 
stand you at all. 

Somers. You don't wish to understand me ! The fellow is a 
■ ood-for-nothing dog, whose reputation, as you know, is none of 
t le best. 

Mrs. Somers. Why, Jack, you once told me you thought him 
agreeable, gentlemanly — 

Somers (interrupting). Yes, that's the deuce of it, he's too con- 
foundedly agreeable and gentlemanly ! I can't imagine for what 
reason you evince such an interest in him ! 

Mrs. Somers (confused). Oh, I have no interest — I mean, no 
reason in the world. He's pleasant, and his society is agreeable 
to Bose. 

Somers (aside). Trying to put it off on Bose. (aloud.) Well, my 



AT,T. AT SEA. 11 

dear, you know I dislike him, and you must not feel offended if 
I don't go into ecstasies over your naval exquisite. 

Mrs. Somers. Jack, you are greatly mistaken. Lieutenant 
Mayne is not the unprincipled fellow you would have us believe 
him, but a true, honorable gentleman, and you know it ! 

Somers. Mrs. S., I don't know it ! and I wish you to under- 
stand, madame, I will not be spoken to in that manner, (strid- 
ing about.) 

Mrs. Somers. I will speak, sir, just as I see fit, and if you 
don't like it — why, then you needn't. 

Somers (in a dignified tone). Mrs. Somers, are you aware to 
whom you are addressing such language ? I, ma'am, am your 
husband, and as such should command your respect and con- 
sideration. 

Enter Grills, l., unseen, unth duster. 

Mrs. Somers. When my husband is in his senses, and is capa- 
ble of talking sanely, I should be pleased to see him. Till he 
arrives at such a desirable state of mind, I will leave him to his 
pleasant reflections and cogitations ! {Flounces off, r. 

Grills. Ha ! Methinks I smell gore ! 

Somers. "Who the devil are you ? 

Grills (aside). I must dissemble, (aloud.) I, sir, am Brutus 
Pizarro Grills, man-of-all-work. But that'll be all right, sir, 
that'll be all right. [Exit, l. 

Somers. Here's a pretty arrangement. Just as I have got 
everything pleasantly fixed here, down comes this infernal fel- 
low. My wife seems devilish interested in him. A dissipated, 
worthless dog, but with a great reputation among the women. 
That's always the way. Let a man be regarded as dangerous, and 
he becomes a lion among the ladies at once. "What makes this 
affair still more unpleasant for me is, that I must leave here to- 
morrow on important business, which will detain me for several 
days, and Heaven only knows what may take place during my 
absence. If there were only some one here whom I could trust, 
and who would inform me of whatever may take place while I 
am away. Ha! the man-of-all-work who was just here ! He will 
have ample opportunity to observe everything, and I can surely 
make it worth his while to be faithful to my interests. I'll try 
him. (calling him, off l.) Here, you, Pills, Squills, or whatever 
your name is. 

Enter Grills, l. 

Grills. Yes, sir. Grills, sir. 

Somers (mysteriously). Grills, I have an offer to make you, 
which, if you accept it, will be greatly to your advantage, while 
at the same time you will aid me. 

Grills (aside). Great Heavens ! My fondest hopes are about 
to be realized, and I shall become famous. This is evidently 



12 AXL AT SEA. 

some manager, who, having heard of my extraordinary talents, 
has come here for the purpose of engaging me. I must dis- 
semble, (aloud. ) Sir, I am all ears. 

Somees. Can you he discreet? 

Geiles. The grave is not more silent, more secure than I. Be- 
hold in me a modern Sphynx. I'm as deaf as a post and as dumb 
as an oyster when occasion requires. Name the task. Be it for 
veal or be it for woe, I am here to do your lordship's noble 
bidding. 

Somees (impatiently). Enough of this rot ! I need your assist- 
ance. Your duties will not be arduous, while your pay shall be 
generous. I must, of course, take you into my confidence. You 
saw the gentleman who left this room a few minutes since ? 

Getels. I did, sir. 

Somees. Well, I dislike him, and firmly believe him to be my 
enemy, bent upon the destruction of my peace of mind. I wish 
only to be certain, then I will crush him as I would a snake. 
Do you understand me ? Don't stand there like an animated 
wooden figure or a grinning ape! What I require of you is to 
watch him and my wife, and report to me any conversation be- 
tween them you may by any means overhear. Can I rely 
upon you ? 

Geills. You can, sir. The combined tortures of the Inquisition 
would not wrest from me this awful secret. 

Somees. Very well. Here is the first installment of your 
reward, (holding out bank-notes.) Be faithful, and you will not 
regret your bargain. 

Geills. Ha! Ha! 
" Shall we now contaminate our fingers 

With base bribes, and sell the mighty space of our large honors 

For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? 

I'd rather be a dog and bay the moon 

Than such a — " 

Somees (interrupting). Oh, very well. Since you have so 
many conscientious scruples in regard to taking the money, I 
will— 

Getels. Yet stay! I will receive thy shekels; (aside) for I'm 
thundering hard up. (takes bills from Sowers.) "Oh, what a 
fall of Grills was there, my countrymen !" 

Somees. Have a care ! If you betray me I shall readily find 
means to punish you. [Exit Somees, l. 

Getels. "Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I !" But for 
the pressing wants of genius I had not stooped to such base 
uses. Yet the die is cast ! The gold I gain from this old man 
will start me on the road to fame and fortune. What, do my 
eyes deceive me ? As I live, there goes the base knave who I am 
to watch with the lady now, no doubt for a quiet stroll. Ha! 
Item first for the old gent, (writing in note-book.) Soon by my 
discoveries the damning chain of guilt will be complete. The 



auj at sea. 13 

enraged husband enters upon the scene — insult — challenge — 
surgeon — pistols — husband victorious — vice crushed — forgive- 
ness and happy reunion of mollified husband and erring wife ! 
Quite good material for a five-act drama. With this dross which 
I will earn by my participation in this business, I shall be 
enabled to throw up the degrading situation I now occupy, and 
aided by that powerful ally gold, obtain an engagement at the 
Globe. Once given the opportunity, my transcendent genius 
must and will show itself, and Brutus Pizarro Grills will imme- 
diately become one of the brightest meteors among the many 
stars of the dramatic firmament. He will, by Jupiter ! I must 
oontrol myself, or the thought of the brilliant future before me 
will drive me crazy with delight. Ha ! A footstep ! The vulture 
approaches with his tender prey fast in Ids clutches. I must 
watch them. Where, oh, where is there a hiding-place ? Behind 
this chair ? No, it may be moved! Hold, under this table; from 
there I can observe all that passes. 

' ' Why do I creep thus stealthily along, 
With trembling steps? Am I not arm'd by Heaven 
To execute it's mandate ? And shall I falter now, 
While every moment that he breathes may crush 
Some life else happy ?" 
They're here. I must dissemble ! (gets under table.) 

Enter Mrs. Somees and Mayne, b. 

Mes. Somees. We've had a charming stroll, have we not, 
Lieutenant ? 

Mayne. Charming indeed, and all the pleasanter for me that 
I perceive you so heartily sympathize with all my hopes and 
plans. Ah! if I only might know that my love was returned, 
what an entirely happy man I should be. 

Gkells (protruding head from under table, aside). I wish they'd 
speak louder. He's talking of love, (writing in note-book.) 

Mes. Somees. Well, my dear Lieutenant, why don't you seek 
an interview and ask the all-important question ? I am sure you 
will not fail. 

Gellls. Item: (lorites) she does not repulse him. 

Maine. I wish to Heaven I could feel as sure. This, with 
me, is no mere idle fancy, but an overpowering passion, which 
affects the whole happiness of my life. Should my love not 
be returned — 

Mes. Somees. But it is returned. Of that I am certain, though 
I suppose I ought not to tell you so. 

Gehjls (aside). I should think she hadn't. His love re- 
turned! (writing.) 

Mayne. Mrs. Somers, you inspire me with fresh life and hope. 
But even if, as you say, I am beloved, your husband may ob- 
ject. 

GehjuS (aside). I think likely he may ! 



14 ALL AT SEA. 

Mayne. If his opposition be strong — 

Grills {aside). I'll swear it will ! 

Mrs. Somers. Oh, never mind my husband ! In some things 
he is a goose. I am bound up heart and soul in your plans, 
and if worse comes to worst, I would even connive at an elope- 
ment. 

Grills (aside). Great Heavens ! The plot thickens. 

Mrs. Somers. Now I must leave you, as I have something to 
do for Jack. 

Mayne. My most grateful thanks go with you. If possible, I 
will see her alone to-day. 

Mrs. Somers. Do so. You have my best wishes. Au revoir. 

[Exit Mrs. Somers, l. 

Mayne. Yes, I will shake off this fear and hesitation that 
heretofore have overpowered me. I'll seek Rose at once, and 
learn my fate this very day. [Exit Mayne, r. 

Grills (coming from under table). Ye gods ! The old man's 
head is more level than I at first suspected. I have news indeed 
for him. 

Enter S03 



Somers. The more I think of this confounded business, the 
more annoyed I am. (discovering Grills). Ah ! Grills ! at your 
work. 

Grills. Aye, sir, and at yours, too. "I can a tale unfold 
whose lightest word will harrow up thy soul — " 

Somers. What, have you made a discovery already ? What is 
it, man? 

Grills. Calm yourself, and be prepared for the worst ! Are 
your nerves braced to meet — 

Somers. What in Heaven's name do you mean ? If you possess 
an atom of brain — speak ! 

Grills. Sir, I almost fear — yet why shrink from the inevitable ? 
Know, sir, that your suspicions, far from being unjust, were cor- 
rect in every particular. He loves, and is loved ! 

Somers. Then you have seen Mayne and — 

Grills. And your wife, and have listened to a conversation 
which will ever affect my trust in woman, my belief in man's 
honor. 

Somers. Oh, hang your comments ! I'm in no mood to listen 
to such trash. What have you heard or seen ? 

Grills. Your wife and Lieutenant Mayne came in after a 
walk which seemed to have been particularly pleasant to both. 
He was most devoted, pressed her hand, swore undying love, 
which she met with an affection equally as ardent, and after 
many expressions of regret at the cruel fate which separates 
them — planned an elopement. 

Somers. You heard this ?— and she— oh, my God ! This is too 
much ! Qh, Kitty, Kitty, I loved you so ! Curse him for a 



AliL AT SEA. 15 

sneaking villain, his blood shall avenge this cruel wrong. 
Curse him ! Curse him ! [Exit Sohebs, l. 

Gkills. By all the gods of love and war, I am undone. The 
old man is off his chump, and will surely do mischief, if not 
murder. What an ass I was, not to ask him for security ! for now 
I may never be paid. But I will follow him, and perhaps yet 
secure "that which is but mine own." [Exit hastily, l. 

Enter Kose and Mayne, b. He hands her to chair. She sits. 

Bose. What a funny idea of yours to imagine I was making a 
secret of our intended departure from the city. I really intended 
to speak of it, but you so interested me with that exciting ac- 
count of your adventures in the Chinese village, that I quite 
forgot everything else, and when I awoke to my immediate 
surroundings, I found it an awfully late hour, and so I sent you 
home. 

Mayne. No, indeed. If you remember, it was I that first made 
the discovery of the dreadful lateness of the hour by referring 
to my watch, and out of the generosity of my self-sacrificing 
nature, I went out into the darkness. 

Bose. Poor man! How great of you. Your sex is so proverb- 
ially selfish, that such an unusual instance of self-denial should 
be spread throughout the world. 

Mayne. Seriously, it did cost me an effort to go. But, Miss 
Leigh, I have sought this interview to speak on a subject which 
concerns my whole happiness. With you it rests to decide 
whether I leave here to-day a hopeless, aimless, miserable wretch, 
or remain here the happiest of mortals. 

Bose (shyly). Bests with me? I am sure I don't wish to do 
anything to make you unhappy. 

Mayne. Since the first time I met you, some few months ago, 
your image has been constantly "before me. When absent from 
you, I have seemed only to exist — not to live; when with you, I 
have been in an atmosphere of almost perfect happiness, which 
I feared to disturb by speaking. Oh, Bose ! can you not see 
I love you — love you with a passion that defies my most ardent 
attempts to express it ? You have become my guide — my aspi- 
ration — my hope. Without you, life would be for me a blank, 
and I should care nothing for what the future might bring 
forth ; with you by my side I can dare and do all things. You 
are silent ! Can I have mistaken your feelings, and do you care 
nothing for me? Bose, my darling, can you love me? 

Bose (impulsively). Can I ? Don't you know I do ! 

Mayne (embracing her). My own love ! Can it be possible that 
such happiness is mine, or shall I presently awake to find it only 
another of the delusive dreams that I have so often indulged in ? 

Bose. Yes, Harry, it is quite real. If my love can make you 
happy, you have my whole heart. But axe you sure that you 
love me so much ? 



16 ALE AT SEA. 

Mayne. Sure? Certain as that I breathe — a thousand times 
more than I can ever tell you. Only one thing now troubles me 
in the least. Your brother-in-law, for some reason which I 
can't guess, has evidently taken a violent dislike to me. Whether 
this is on account of my attentions to you or not, I can't say. 
At all events, he will not favor my suit, and as he is your guard- 
ian, that will be anything but pleasant. 

Rose. He certainly was not pleased with your coming here; 
that I noticed. 

Mayne. Perhaps Mr. Somers dislikes me because of my past 
life, which has, I frankly confess, been somewhat wild and reck- 
less. But, darling, all this is a thing of the past. The future is 
in my own hands, and I know very soon, with your aid, I shall 
become a model man in every respect. At present, I am rather 
in the rough; but I am not, believe me, without possibilities, as 
you shall see. 

Kose. Don't imagine, dear, your past can ever mar my future 
happiness. I willingly forget and forgive any follies you may 
have committed, for I know you'll be true now. 

Mayne (embraces her). Thank you, darling; the world's vices 
and I have now nothing in common. I shall live but for you, 
my chief object your happiness. 

Enter Mks. Some&s, n. 

Mes. Somees. Oh, the brute ! Oh, the vile, wicked monster ! 
I hate him ! oh, how I hate him ! And he, the old villain, pre- 
tending to be jealous of me, who loved him so. 'Twas only a 
cloak for his own wickedness. Oh ! if I had her here I'd — 
I'd— 

S° SE - !■ What is the matter ? 



Mayne 



Kose. Dear Kitty, are you ill? Who is this brute, villain, 
monster, and everything else that is bad ? 

Mayne. And who is "she?" Pray explain ! 

Mks. Somees. I'm a deceived, broken-hearted woman; but I 
won't stand it — I shall leave him and go — 

Kose. For Heaven's sake, sister, calm yourself, and tell us 
your trouble. Perhaps we can help you. 

Mks. Somees. There can be no help. But there— the world 
will know it,, so you might as well hear the first report. Ha, ha, 
ha ! (hysterically. ) Kead the glaring proof of his infidelity, and 
then take me somewhere — anywhere away from him. I never 
want to see his wicked, deceitful face again, (handing Kose 
letter.) 

Rose. Listen, Harry; what can this mean? (reading.) 

*' Dear Jack: Yours received. I have fulfilled your instruc- 
tions to the letter. As you expected, I experienced a little diffi- 
culty. The old man evidently suspected something. I'm 
happy to say it's all 0, K., and I must congratulate you for a 



AT.T4 AT SEA. 17 

lucky dog. By Jove ! I'm in love with her myself. A trifle 
dark, but, ye gods, what style ! Shapely legs, and eyes that look 
right through you. But I'll spare you further rhapsodies. Run 
down to-morrow and see for yourself; you'll find her at 183 
Charles Street. Drop in and see me during the day; I want to 
hear you rave. Truly yours, Feed. 

"P. S. — She needs as much care as a baby. You must be 
tender in dealing with her, for she has lots of spirit. It is for- 
tunate you've a long purse, for I fancy you'll find her an expen- 
sive luxury to keep. F." 

Mes. Somees {with forced calmness). Well, what do you think 
of that for a specimen ? Ought I not to be proud of so noble, so 
virtuous a husband ? 

Mayne. Have you seen Mr. Somers ? Perhaps — 

Mes. Somees. I tell you I never will see him again. I hate 
him! 

Rose. But why not show him the letter? At least, give him a 
chance to defend himself. 

Mes. Somees. I believe you sympathize with him. Every one 
is against me. I wish I were dead, (sobbing.) 

Rose. Dearest Kitty, how cruel you are ! I will never desert 
you. 

Enter Geiles, l. 

Geiles (with bombast). Pardon, my liege and ladies; my lord 
awaits without, and would fain a word with your ladyship. 

Mayne. What? 

Geiees (meekly). Mr. Somers would like t) see Mrs. Somers. 

Mes. Somees. I won't go to him — I won't see him ! 

Getels (aside). Then Mahomet must come to the mountain. 

Rose (aside to Geills). Tell Mr. Somers to come here. 

Geiles (aside). Ha ! the seeds of dissension sown by my rude 
hand have taken root, and now I shall hang out my banner on 
the outer wall, cry, Havoc ! and let slip the dogs of war. 

[Exit, l. 

Rose. Oh, Harry dear, do not quarrel with Mr. Somers. He 
is so vindictive, he'd never forgive you, and that would ruin all 
and break my heart. Conciliate him for my sake. 

Mayne. Trust to me, dearest. I never lose my temper. 

Enter Somees, l., hurriedly followed by Geiles. 

Somees (advancing). I should much prefer, madame, to have 
seen you alone. I was, perhaps, more considerate of your feel- 
ings than the occasion warrants, but you have seen fit to oppose 
me even here. Know, then, that I have discovered ail. 

Omnes. All ! 

Somees. Yes, all. But you need not fear me. I shall not inter- 
fere in any way with you. I cast you off. Take what you choose, 



18 ALL AT SEA. 

and never let me set eyes on you again. I wish you much joy 
with your pretty lover. 

Mayne (to Rose). Her pretty lover ? 

Mrs. Somers (sarcastically). Your delicious impudence is decid- 
edly refreshing. The liberty you so kindly offer I had fully in- 
tended to take without your permission. You are a villain of the 
deepest dye, and if I were a man I would kill you. 

Eose. What mystery is this ? What excuse can you offer for 
this base insult ? 

Mb. Somers. Kose, my dear, forgive me if I seem hard, but 
I am half crazed. I have made a discovery. Your sister, my 
wife, has betrayed me, and my curse be upon her and that 
sneaking villain there. 

Mayne. By Heaven, sir, this is too much. I, her lover ! Your 
age alone protects you. I am a man of honor, and you must ex- 
plain yourself or take the consequences. 

Somers. You are a consummate villain. My proof is here. 
Grills! 

Omnes. Grills? 

Somers. Yes, Grills. You little imagined, madame, that your 
loving interviews were overheard by one in my employ. You 
thought me an easily duped fool, whose love for you so blinded 
him that he could see no wrong in you. Know, then, that Grills, 
at my instigation, has watched you since that villain's arrival this 
morning. This faithful fellow overheard Mayne's confession of 
love for you, your kind reception of it, and finally your plan for 
an intended elopement. Can you deny this, traitress ? 

Mrs. Somers (starting and turning away). You are as great a 
fool as villain, I suspect. 

Mayne. I much regret this unfortunate mistake, but I think 
I can set matters right. I do love, I admit, not your wife, but 
her sister, and she has made me happy by loving me in return. 
I recognized your evident aversion to me, and to insure success 
secured Mrs. Somers' co-operation, hoping through her to obtain 
your consent. Our conversation was upon that subject alone, 
and how that infernal idiot could have made such a blunder, I 
cannot conceive. 

Grills (aside). It seems my vaulting ambition hath o'erleaped 
itself. 

Somers. Heavens ! How my infernal jealousy has mixed me ! 
Confound Grills for a stupid fool ! 

Grills. Awhile ago I was a "faithful fellow;" now he curses 
me, and calls me a fool. Alack and well-a-day ! 

Somers. Mayne, I beg your pardon. My darling (to Mrs. 
Somers), can you forgive your jealous old hubby? 

Mrs. Somees. No !. Never ! Your insult and distrust of me 
were enough — but do you think I will be the weak dupe again I 
was ! Forgive you, indeed ! Then, your mind satisfied, you will 



ALL AT SEA. 19 

keep your engagement with that vile creature your kind friend 
has — 

Somees. What, in Heaven's name— 

Mrs. Somers {handing him letter). There ! I found it where you 
had dropped it. You should be more careful of your tender cor- 
respondence. Do you recognize it ? 

Somers (glancing at letter). Ha, ha, ha ! he, he, he ! My dear, 
we can cry quits — ha, ha ! — for you have made as great a mistake 
as myself. This letter is from my old friend, Brown, and does 
not relate, as you suppose, to a woman, but to a fine, blooded 
mare that I desired him, if possible, to buy for me. I intended 
it as a present for you when you returned home; but since you 
so positively assert that you cannot forgive me — Oh, dearest, 
overlook your stupid old husband's absurd blunder, which was 
caused entirely by his excessive love for you, and let's be happy 
once more. 

Mrs. Somers (throwing herself into his arms). Oh, Jack ! How 
wretched I have been ! 

Somees. And I also ; but, thank Heaven, the clouds of mystery 
and suspicion that enveloped us are dispelled, and I have been 
taught a good lesson as to the dangers of jealousy. Lieutenant, 
you say you love Rose and that she has promised to be your 
wife. All I can say as her guardian is — take her, with my best 
wishes for your happiness; but beware of jealousy. 

Mayne. A thousand thanks for your kindness, Mr. Somers; 
now we are indeed all happy. 

Grills. Bless you, my children, bless you ! [Gong sounds. 

Matne. Dinner time already, and I confess the events of the 
morning have sharpened my appetite considerably. But before 
we go, let us thank our kind friends for their attention to the 
mistakes and dilemmas of our party, who throughout the morn- 
ing have been "All at Sea." 

Grills (looking at audience, then at Mayne). That'll be all right. 



POSITIONS. 

Grills. Lieutenant. Kose. Somers. Mrs. Somers. 
CURTAIN. 



SARA'S CONVERSION. 

A¥ ORIGINAL DARKEY DIALOGUE. 



CHAEA C TEBS. 

Gabriel, a Negro Preacher. 
Susan, GdbrieVs Wife. 
Sara, GdbrieVs Daughter. 
Simon, a Church Deacon. 



SCEi>rE. — Interior of a negro cabin. Gabriel seated filling 
a cob pipe with tobacco. Susan seated near by, piecing 
a quilt. 

Gabriel. I mus' take a good smoke old ■woman an' den go 
fasten up de hen coop 'kase dere aiut no safety dese times 'gin 
de rogueish niggas what makes dey livin' by stealin' 'stead of 
hones' work {noise outside G. starts). But what's dat ? Dat 
war' our gate a creakin' (looks out) fo' goodness ef it taint 
brodder Simon ! 

(Enter Simon.) 

Gabriel {rises to welcome him). Why now de' do ? I was jes 
telling my ole woman 'twas you. Hab a cheer ? 

Susan (rises, hands chair). Yes bro' Simon take a seat an' set 
down, de sight ob you is good fo' so' eyes. How'se you bin dis 
long time ? 

Simon (seats himself slowly). De fac' is sista Susan I has'nt 
bin out a visitin' none dis fall. Is'e bin had de rhematiz in my 
joints {grimaces). 

Susan. Dat's bad. Dey say dat 'troleune ile is powerful good 
fo' rheuinatiz. 

Simon. Is'e 'feerd it wouldn't 'tech mine. I bin had it so long 
de docto'say dat its chronicle, {to Gabriel.) But bro' Gabriel ef 
you'll 'scuse me fo' changin' de subject' I corned heah to-night to 
ax you ef de 'ports dats goin' roun' is true. Dey tells me you 
gin your gal de terriblest beatin' las' night ! An I couldn't 
b'lieve it. Whats you an' she bin fallin' out about ? 

Gabriel. What your hearn bro' Simon is pintedly the trufe, 
an' long ez you ax, I hasn't no objection to 'splainifyin' de way 
I rules my folks heah at home, an' how I' stablishes order when 
its needed, an' dis time I leaves it to you to say if it wan't needed. 

Simon. I can't gib no 'pinion t'will I done heah de fax in de 
permisses. 

20 



sara's conversion. 21 

Gabriel. Dat's so! (puff, puff) an darfore I'll tell yon jes' how 
et corned up. I'se bin all ray life a straight-sided nigga' an 'posed 
to new fandangles let it be what it inought : polytix, 'ligion, bis- 
ness. I don't keer what. Ole Gab'rel say de ole way is de bes' 
way, an I preaches it to all dese niggas dat's runnin tetotaluin 
crazy 'bout ebery new gim crack whats started — but 'ppears like 
no 'rnount ob preachin' don't sarve 'em— 

Simon. But I war axin' you ; bout Sara, yo' gal. 

Gabriel. Dat's jes what I'm comin' ter. You know she done 
bin off in de city livin' in sands all this las' Spring an Summa' an' 
las' Sat' day she earned home to make us a visit. 

Simon. So I heern. 

Gabriel. 'Course my old woman an' me was powerful glad to 
see our chile, but you b'leeve me de gal had turn' stark bodily 
naked fool. 

Simon (starts surprised ). Hey ! Not Sara, you don' mean ? 

Gabriel. Yes, Sara. She want no mo' like de Sara dat lef us 
dan chalk's to cheese. 

Simon {sorrowfully). You don' tell me ! 

Gabriel. Yes sir ! She corned in wid her cloze pinned tight 
enough to hender her from squattin', an' her har ! et was a-dang- 
lin' plum in her eyes, an' she lookin' as sassy ! Oh ! 

Simon. Haw ! haw ! You mus' be stretchin' yo' blankit, bro' 
Gab'rel, sho : ! 

Gabriel. Dat I ain't, — an' den de fool nigga had act'ly fo'got 
how to talk. She sot back an' roll dem eyes ob hern, an' fanned 
jes' like she 'spected to die the nex' minit, an' 'gin'd to talk prop- 
erer dan two dixshunarys. 

Susan. She did dat— show as yu'se settin in dat cheer, bro' 
Simon. 

Simon. "Why, sister Susan, you 'stonish me ! 

Gabriel. It's de trufe as de Lord's my cirkit jedge, an' den to 
cap it all she call me "paw" an' her mammy "maw" (mimics), 
an' she had de face to ax us how could we bar' ter live in sich a 
little one hoss' town — 

Simon. Gra'chus ! She didn't 'buse de place whar she was 
fotch up ? 

Susan. Dat she did— an' roll her eyes up an mince out, "Oh, 
I think I should die ! " (mimics) actin' like a duck in a thunder 
storm. 

Simon. An' what did you all say? 

Gabriel. Say! Dar was nothin' to say; we sot an' starred at 
de gal to try to make her out an' den I sed to myself, It's got to 
come. 'Kase I know'd it hed to come fus' as las'! 

Simon. You didn't light in on her right den f 

Gabriel. "Wall ! you knows, bro' Simon, dat I ain't a hasty 
nigga' no time, an' I 'eluded jes' to let the gal hav' rope t'will she 
got to de eend ob her tedder. 



22 saea's conversion. 

Simon. Yon say dis was defust day she corned? 

Gabriel. Not 'zactly. Dis was Sunday inornin'. She got 
home Sat'day, j r ou 'member, late in de day. All dis mincin' 
talk was jes' as she 'ppear'd rigged out to go to meetiu', puttin' 
on ar's till she couldn't walk straight. 

Simon. Yon say dis war de fus' Sunday, an' she went to 
meetiu' ? 

Gabriel. 0, yes ! she worm'd in an' out like a dog's hine leg, 
an' when she corned back she fetch'd kumpuy. 

Simon. You didn't 'spose her 'fore the kumpny? 

Gabriel. Lemme tell you. 'Course I didn't. I sot dar an' 
didn't open my monf ; but ef dat gal didn't disqualify me dat day 
you kin take my pipe. 

Simon. An' didn't she smell no mouse ? 

Susan. Ef she did she nebber let on. 

Gabriel. No, she nebber suspicion, an' bimeby dey all struck 
on 'ligion, an' arter a while dat young buck "Woodson— you know 
dat scrimptious nigga whar drives Judge Black's carridge— he 
say to my darter : " Miss Sara, what's yo' 'pinion on dis subjec' ?" 
I jes' wish yon could a seed Sara tossin' her hade ! 

Simon. I clar, bro' Gab'rel, you'se 'niuT ter make a dog laff. 

Gabriel. Ges' wait 'twill I tell you de res'. Den Sara say 
(mimics), "I takes no intelligence in sich matters. Dey is all 
too common fo' me. Baptisses is a foot or two below my grade." 

Simon. What ! She didn't ? 

Gabriel. Fo' goodness, dem was de words, and den she say — 
"Fo' my part — I tends de 'Pisclopian church whar I resides, an' 
I 'spects to jine de nex anniversary ob de Bishop. 0, Mr. Wood- 
son, you jes' ought to see our church — dey does ebery thing so 
beautiful an' hab so much style. — 

Simon. Wa'll, wa'll ! an' what did Woodson say ? 

Gabriel. He sorter laugh an' say— -'Why, Miss Sara, I see 
you'se changed " — den sich a toss ob her hade shegiv' an' answer 
him back wid — "Why law! Mr. Woodson, nobody but de com- 
mon po' white trash in de city is Baptiss." 

Simon. Dar' now ! I don' see how you sot still. 

Gabriel. I tells yon I couldn't hardly b'leeve my own eyes 
an' ears — 'special when she kep' on an' sez — "Dis bery mornin' 
at meetin' it make me narvious to heah so much groanan' an' 
shoutin', it sound so ongenteel to make so much circumlocution 
in church." — I get so mad, bro' Simon, my hade far'ly buzz; but 
I keep still es I could 'twill de kumpny get up to go, an' den I 
say you mus' come agin, an' you musn't mine dis here talk ob 
Sara's, she's sorter outer her rite mine — but de nex time you all 
comes she'll be all right — 'special 'bout 'ligion. 

Simon. How did Woodson take dat ? 

Gabriel. None ob 'em didn't say nothin' — dey look at Sara 
mon'strus hard an' den dey all lef — 'Bout de time dey gits out o' 



sara's conversion. 23 

hearin' I turns round to Sara an' I ax her sof like, u Darter! 
what's de name ob dat church yo' say you'se gwine to jine ? 

Den she an'ser promp' like ' 'De Pisclopian, Paw ! " I retched 
me a bunch ob hick'ries I done prepar' fo' de 'ccassion an' I say, 
"Sara chile, I'se awful consarn'd 'bout you, honey, 'kase I knows 
yo' mine ain't right an' I wants to fetch yo' roun' de shortes' way." 

Simon. What she do when you say dat ¥ 

Gabriel. She jump up quick an' ax me, "What make me say 
her mine ain't right? " 

Simon. Didn't she 'spec nothin' yit? 

Gabriel. Dat I doan know, but I 'plies, "Kase, my darter, 
I'se got de bes' re'sou — In de fus' place you'se forgot how ter 
talk— an how ter walk— an' yo' daddy's right name an' yo' mam- 
my's rite name— 'sides a heap you'se got to onlarn— den I lit in 
on her wid dem hick'ries an' I 'stonished her considerable. 

Simon. Dat was mon-strous steep bro' Gabe'rel — po' gal ! 

Gabriel. Don' yo' say "po' gal" to me— it want no time twill 
she war 7 done wid her fool whiney talk, an' she jump equal to a 
hopper grass. 

Simon. I 'spec she did. 

Gabriel. Yes, sir, she holler Lordy daddy — mine yo', she 
nebber say "Paw" not a single pop. 0, daddy, don' whip me no 
mo'. Den I say you'se improvin' — Got yo' voice back uat'ral — 
au' den I ax: what church does you 'long to Sara— she sniffle, 
an' den she 'plies, "I don't b'long to none paw!" Maybee I 
didn't tetch her hard arter dat dem hick'ries ring 'bout five minits, 
an' den I ax what church you 'long to Sara, honey? Tou jes' 
ought a hearn her sing out so loud dat de windas panes far'ly 
rattl'd, "Fse a Baptiss, daddy!" I say: "Tou is?" She say, 
" Yes, sir, I'se a deep wata' Baptiss, an' I 'spises de Piscolapians 
—please daddy ! " Yo' nebber seed a gal get sich a lambastin' 
sense yo' was born, an' dis mornin' she's peerk as a cricket. 

Simon. I does say yo' beats any man I eber sot eyes on fo' 
church guberment an' fam'ly dispensatory. 

Susan. He shuck all de starch outen Sara, sho'. She ain't 
been de same gal. — 

Gabriel (winks at Susan). Hole on, ole woman — I wants bro' 
Simon to see for hissef, 'kase den he's boun' ter b'leeve in Sara's 
convershin (raises voice). Sara ! Darter ! 

Sara (outside). Yas, daddy, I'se comin! 

(Enter Sara, looking neat and lively.) 

Sara. Heah I is. 

Gabriel. Don' you see brudder Simon, tell him howdy. 

Sara (gives quick curtsy). How you do, brudder Simon — Is 
you well ? an' how's de gals at home ? 

Simon. Only tol'eble— obleeg'd ter yo' — De gals is all well 
'ceptin ifancy Jane's got a bad cole. 



24: REVELATIONS OF A POCKET. 

Gabriel (aside to Simon). You see she's right side up. (To 
Sara). Honey ! tell brudder Simon what church yo' 'longs to. 

Sara. ! i'se a Baptiss (rolls eyes at Gabriel). A deep water 
Baptiss,— Dat I is. 

Simon (rises, holds out hand to Sara). Gib us yo' ban', sister, 
I feels like its good fo' me to be heah. Let's close dis fani'ly 
meetin' wid de good old hymn. (They all come forward and 
sing. 

I wants to be a Baptiss ; 

My name is writ on high, 
I 'spec to lib a Baptiss, 
A Baptiss I will die. 

I wants to be a Baptiss; 

Deep water is ray name, 

And when I dies, in hebben 

A home I hopes to claim. 

CURTAIN. 



REVELATIONS OF A POCKET. 

ANT ORIGINAL MONOLOGUE. 



SCENE. — A bed-chamber. Bed, Table, Chairs; on the table 
a battered hat, and a candle-stick with the candle burned 
down to the socket. 

TJie Speaker is dressed in evening dress, very much crumbled, 
with a spring overcoat on. 

He is discovered in bed, asleep, icith the covei'let over him ; 
goes through the actions of slowly awakening ; finally throws off 
the coverlet and sits on the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes and 
yawning, speaks. 

Great Caesar — how my head aches ! I must have been on a 
terrible tear last night ! Fancy sleeping with my clothes on ! 
(gets up, stretches, picks up hat). There's a pretty looking 
object ! That's just the way my head feels, (lays hat doivn). 
Oh, dear ! (yawns) I wonder where I was last night (pause). I 
have a sort of dim recollection of having been to the theatre, and 
as I came out, of meeting some people I knew and going with 



KEVEIATIONS OF A POCKET. 25 

them to a little private supper at Delmonico's— and then — No ! 
I have not the ghost of an idea what happened — it's all a blank — 
(pause) I wonder how much 1 spent ! (puts hand in vest pocket) — 
here's ten — twenty— one — two — twenty-two cents. That's not 
much, (to audience) Gentlemen ! you all know just how I feel — if 
any of you have never gone through this mill, it's time enough for 
you to shake a stick at me — Now don't all speak at once ! No- 
body will believe you (thinks a moment). Well, now, I should 
like to know where I was and what I did. The great Cuvier 
used to say that if he only had one antediluvian bone, he could 
build up a megatherian from it — but I havn't the first clue to 
start on. Ah ! perhaps — I always was a great fellow for stuffing 
everything in my pockets, at school and ever since — perhaps I 
may find something there, (puts his hand in his overcoat pocket). 
Here's a slip of paper — wonder what it is ! (opens it and reads) 
Delinonico — yes — I think that was the place — right it is — Del- 
monico. Room number fourteen — that's my regular room — 
and this is the bill — what's the footing? What! seventy-two 
dollars and forty cents ! and of course as I've got the bill I must 
have paid it— Great heavens ! Why — I had some twenty odd 
dollars in my wallet — no more — and the bill is receipted — where 
did I get the money? Of course I must have borrowed it — won- 
der who lent it me — fifty dollars at least. Oh ! it's simply awful 
to think of! (pause.) I wonder how many of us were there — 
who could they have been ?— (thinks, then looks again at the hill). 
It would be some satisfaction at least to see what we had to eat 
and drink — let's see — oysters — yes, of course — but what's this? 
Fish-balls, 25 cents ! that would be about one plate — who in the 
world would want that wretched stuff? Ah ! a light breaks in 
upon me. There's only one man I know who could want them, 
and he has a perfect craze about them — that's Tom Malone — 
Fishball Tom. It must have been Tom — I'm perfectly sure it 
was — there's one of them anyhow ! (looks at dill again). H'm — 
champagne — chicken salad— ah ! here another clue — sardines & 
moutarde — that's that dude, Bertie de Motte — sardine-Bertie, he's 
always eating mustard sardines — no one else ever touches the 
horrible things. — Come, now — that's two, Tom Malone, a right 
jovial fellow— and Bertie de Motte, an insufferable prig, but 
really amusing when he unbends. Touchy, though, and full of 
fight. It's hardly likely there were more than four of us, and so 
there is only one not accounted for. It makes little difference, 
anyhow, but it was most probably Fred. Martin — Tom and Fred, 
are always together, regular chums. (Looks at bill.) Hullo! 
Angel cake — Charlotte de Russe — that looks just the least bit 
suggestive of ladies— (thinks). No! I hardly think that. It's 
not possible to have forgotten myself so completely as to have 
forgotten them. (Puts till in breast pocket.) Ah ! what have I 
got here? (Draws out some photographs.) Cards! Photographs! 



26 REVELATIONS OP A POCKET. 

(Examines one, starts bewildered.) Oh! knock me down with a 
feather — .Rosalie Harcourt— of the Olympic! Oh, Tom, Tom! 
That's your doing. That's the one that takes the cake — the 
Angel cake, of course. (Looks at another, musingly.) "Who's 
this ? I recollect that face —a happy -looking face— yes— it must 
be — that's the young lady 1 saw driving cut with Bertie. (Looks 
at the third.) That face is just simply adorable — never saw her 
in my life —hair plainly arranged, dress high up around the love- 
liest little throat— eyes ! ! — Who can she be ? Evidently quite 
young— I must have sat next to her— I couldn't have sat any- 
where else, no, not for two minutes. I would have made the 
room red with gore of any one who attempted to resist me. (Sees 
two visiting cards with the photographs — starts.) Captain For- 
tesque — don't know him — (musing) Fortesque ? think I've heard 
Bertie mention that name — (looks at the other card). Lieutenant 
Moseley — why — that's my cousin— (lohistles softly). Can it be 
that all this military means a quarrel — seconds ? a duel ! ! Oh ! 
I suppose that lovely face drove me to make an ass of myself— 
did something — said something — and Bertie took offence — (exam- 
ines the card closely). There's pencil marks on this card — Eight 
o'clock — Sylvan Lake — that's a rendez-vous. Eight o'clock — 
(looks at his watch). Half-past ten ! Too late ! Dishonored 
(furiously) dishonored ! ! I shall be branded as a poltroon ! a 
coward ! (Flings the cards on the table and walks around ab- 
stractedly). What a distracting chain of events to find in my 
pockets ! (Puts his hand in another pocket and draws out a 
handkerchief.) A handkerchief ! of the finest lawn— a coronet 
in the comer — Where did I get that ? I'll be arrested next thing 
for a pickpocket ! Oh ! my poor head ! How warm it is ! {takes 
off overcoat and looks sear xhingly at it). That's not my coat! 
not mine at all — "Whose can it be? I suppose he's got mine — 
(thinks, starts suddenly). That coat's not mine — then I didn't 
pay the bill — Didn't borrow any money. The cards are not mine 
— The duel is somebody elses — Oh ! what a relief! (laughs heart- 
ily). What a fearful lot of trouble my imagination has conjured 
up ! It's just too — too — (a knock at the door). "Who's there ? 
(Goes off, returns with his own coat.) Ha ! my coat sent back — 
(puts hand in its breast pocket— finds his wallet, snatches the 
other coat, puts cards, etc., in the pockets). Hallo, there ! Here, 
take this coat back ! — He's gone — I must catch him ! 

[runs off— exit. 



AT CROSS PURPOSES. 

AN ORIGINAL CONJUGAL DUOLOGUE. 



CHARACTERS. 

Edward, a bridegroom. 
Lucy, his bride. 



SCENE.— Reception room of a hotel. Right, a door. Left, a 
practicable closet. 

Enter Lucy. 

{Enters briskly, closes the door, looks around her.) 

Lucy. Nobody here ? I suppose somebody will come presently. 
(sits down.) Oh! I'm all of a flutter! (pause.) Is nobody com- 
ing? (opens- door timidly.) "Waiter! (pause.) Waiter! He 
doesn't hear me— must be asleep — a queer hotel, truly— I had 
better call louder— no, I won't do that— it might disturb people 
—Even if he came, what can I say? — What explanation can I 
make for coming to a hotel at midnight, alone — without my hus- 
band. And yet I have a husband — but I left him at the railroad 
station— a fact— and now I suppose he is hunting for me every- 
where—asking everybody he meets whether they have seen his 
wife — Yes, a while ago, in the cars, he had the impudence to call 
me his wife. — The only passenger in our car was an old fellow — 
reading the Tribune — opened out, so that it hid us from his view. 
— My husband edged up to me— close up— I could feel his breath 
in my ear— I do believe he wanted to kiss me — but I moved away 
from him, and all he said was "my little wife !" Such iniperti- 
nance ! to call me his wife ! — and he had left only a moment be- 
fore another woman— Oh! I saw him with my own eyes ! 

Oh ! what I have gone through ! its scarcely credible —It began 
this morning at church —at the very altar— the clergyman had 
just completed our marriage ceremony, and was pronouncing the 
benediction, when I heard a heart-broken sob behind me. I said 
to myself— what a sob ! it must be poor mamma.— Not a bit of it 
— I looked — there was mamma, as cool as a cucumber, talking to 
a lady. — But I spied a young woman — half-hidden by a pillar — 
hot tears running down her cheeks — plainly dressed— but nice. — 
Then other matters— at a time like that, you know — took away 
my attention— and the ceremony being over, we reached the 

27 



MS AT CKOSS PURPOSES. 

vestibule. My wraps were soon adjusted and ready to depart. 
I looked around for my husband— nowhere— "He'll be here in a 
moment"— his best man said that— "He is talking to a lady." 
A lady ? said I— What lady f -I looked— there he was— talking- to 
the lady who had been crying. She went away -he came back 
to me quite embarrassed- 

My curiosity was piqued — I'm sure I had good cause - I asked 
papa who she was. — He said he didn't know her— perhaps some 
relative of his.— Well, now, I felt a little suspicious— what should 
she cry for ? — I had read, only a few days before, in a novel — how 
a young man married a girl for her money— and another girl, 
whom he loved and loved him — threw vitriol in his face at the 
wedding — to be sure, in this case there was no vitriol— but it 
looked rather suspicious. — Then I thought— perhaps the poor girl 
loves him — came to bid him a last farewell — poor girl— I suppose 
such things happen sometimes— I suppose I looked serious— for 
mamma said "What's the matter, pet?" I answered— Oh, it's 
nothing — I feel a little contused, of course. — Then followed the 
wedding breakfast— excitement — congratulations— at last, at eight 
o'clock we — Edward and I — took the train to "Washington. —The 
first part of the journey everything went well — at least, my hus- 
band said very little— looked terribly annoyed, though — that old 
fellow sitting right opposite us, staring at every word we said — 
at last— the wretch opened out his newspaper- just then, we 
stopped at Baltimore — My husband got out on to the platform- 
said he wanted to get some cigar-lighters— He seemed to be a 
good while getting them, so I looked out of the window — What 
do you think I saw ? Him ! Yes ! — My husband, standing at the 
door of another car— talking— with whom?— with the lady who 
cried at the wedding — she had followed us- or — perhaps— my 
husband had persuaded her to come — Oh— it's just too horrible! — 
{pause.) Presently my fine gentleman comes back, the very 
picture of tranquility— Oh! I felt like screaming — but I hated to 
raise a scandal. I controlled myself— till we arrived at Washing- 
ton. Then — while he was looking after our baggage —I slipped 
away, got into a cab— and here I am — I shall take the very next 
train back again— and return to my parents- (falls into a chair 
and cries, then rising, resolutely ■) No — no tears — I am outraged 
— my resolution is taken. I can't stay here all night— I must 
have a private room— perhaps somebody will come presently — 
I'll wait a while longer, (laughs.) My husband! I wonder 
what he'll say— I should like to have seen him, after he had seen 
to our luggage, coming and looking everywhere for me —He must 
be in an awful fluster — all alone — alone ? No— there's the other 
one— she can console him— Oh ! it's simply abominable— I'll get a 
divorce — he has made it necessary— all I need is a good lawyer— 
Why — to be sure — there's Goodwin — poor James Goodwin— I 
think I should have married him, only this one came between— 



AT CKOSS PURPOSES. 29 

this one— is an architect— mamma said I should never marry any 
one but an architect — poor James — why wasn't he an architect? 
— (pause) Oh, well! I don't care for him a hit —but mamma 
always said — Lucy — you shall marry a man of your own choice — 
Well, I made my choice— and then she persuaded me to marry 
some oue else— I had five distinct offers— and 

Edward (outside the door.) I'll have to wait ! 

Lucy. Great heavens ! My husband ! 

Edward {outside.) Hurry— now ! 

Lucy. "Where shall I go - ah! this door ! (opens door and enters 
closet, closing the door behind her.) 

Enter Edward. 

Edward (excitedly.) Pretty state of thiugs— Wait -I must 
wait! — everywhere I go, I must wait ! I can't wait— after what 
has happened — I've lost — no— I've mislaid my wife — my wife — 
only since noon —to-day— no - yesterday —oue o'clock at night — 
it's to-morrow— Who ever heard of such a thing ? If you read it 
in the papers — you wouldn't believe it. —Nobody would believe it 
— and yet it is. — Not an hour ago —we arrived at the depot— I 
went to look after our luggage— back in a moment — she was gone 
— goue -somebody has carried her off —she was simple and inno- 
cent— somebody has made her believe I sent him for her— and she 
went with him— Oh! it's abominable— Thank heaven she's a sen- 
sible girl— she'll soon find out what's happened— but how will she 
ever find me ? Oh! the scoundrel! If I only get hold of him— Oh ! 
I'll massacre him —There was only one other passenger with us 
— that old wretch with the newspaper- Can it be he ? I'll kill 
him! -But where is she t— Can't find any trace of her— been to 
all the hotels but this one —no tidings of her— here, they tell me 
no one has arrived to-night. What a lovely wedding-day.— If 
you saw it in the papers— yon wouldn't believe it. But I must 
find her. What shall I say to her parents ? My wife lost ! What 
will they think?— I must find her! (goes to door, calls of). 
Waiter .'—somebody ! -No answer— Ah— I think I heard some 
one out there— {goes to closet door, opens it, starts lack). My 
wife ! ! — My wife, hiding in a closet? — 

Lucy (confused). Oh— Edward— 

Edward. What's the meaning of this ? 

Lucy. I thought this was a bedroom door, otherwise — 

Edward. Otherwise? Well? 

Lucy (angrily). Leave me— sir ! (shuts herself in again ) 

Edward (excited). Eh ! What !— she avoids me !— (opens the 
door again.) Come out ! 

Lucy. I won't ! 

Edward. Come out, I say — you can't stay in there — What in 
the world is the meaning of this ? 

Lucy (comes out quietly, avoids him, goes towards the other 



80 AT CROSS PURPOSES. 

door). Don't touch me ! don't dare to come near to me ! 

Edward {stupefied). Great heavens ! I've married a crazy 
■woman! (to her). Oh! come— explain — (advances towards her, 
she retreats). Oh! horrible— it must he— crazy ! ! AVhat shall 
do? 

Lucy (aside). I cannot remain here — (goes towards door). 

Edward. Where are you going ? 

Lucy. Right back home — to my family — 

Edward. What? alone? 

Lucy. Alone — certainly — alone. 

Edward. But why ? What— what's the matter? 

Lucy. You know perfectly well — 

Edward. I ? This is unendurable ! 

Lucy. Don't attempt to hinder me — If you dare to, I will call 
for help — I will claim the protection of the law — 

Edward. Protection ! — The law ! {vacantly and wildly). Oh ! 
this must be some horrible dream — Just now at the depot— now 
at a hotel — I suppose presently the scene will change again— it 
will be a forest — a precipice — that's the way it is in dreams— 
{strikes his forehead repeatedly). Oh ! wake up ! wake up ! (walks 
about distractedly). 

Lucy (aside). How he frightens me ! His head seems com- 
pletely wandering — 

Edward (turning towards her), But is it? can it be? all real? 
Lucy ! 

Lucy. Farewell — sir. 

Edward. For pity's sake— one word— What does this all 
mean ? Somebody has carried you off? is it not so ? 

Lucy. What? 

Edward. Was it that man with the Tribune ? He told you 
that I was waiting for you here ? and you followed him — 

Lucy. What ¥ / 1 follow — are you crazy ? 

Edward. I'll kill him ! I'll strangle the hound ! And that's 
why you won't look at me ? 

Lucy. I don't understand a word of it — 

Edward. Don't understand ? 

Lucy. No, sir — Listen to me. — It was I — myself— that left you 
— of my own free will — 

Edward. Left — me? You— 

Lucy. It was about time— high time. I saw her. 

Edward. Her?— Who, then? 

Lucy. You know whom I mean. 

Edward. No! 

Lucy. That woman — who cried at our wedding — That woman 
— the same one — that you talked to in the church — the same one 
that you talked to again at Baltimore— in the next car to us — 

Edward (inquiringly). — Woman? in the church — at Balti- 
more. — What in the world do you mean ? 



AT CHOSS PURPOSES. 31 

Lucy. Yes — that woman — that nobody knew, but you— your 
darling— the minx— that you brought with you, right here— 

Edward (smiling). She ! what, Fanehon ! 

Lucy. I don't care to hear her name — you can have her — 
Fanehon— name and all — 

Edward (sits down, laughing heartily).^ Fanny — Oh! that's 
too good ! Fanny— the minx — my love — "Why ! my dear— she's 
your new maid. 

Lucy. What? 

Edward. Tes — Fanehon — your lady's maid — a French girl — 
first class — and you took her for — Oh ! it would be actually in- 
sulting to me if it were not so awful funny. 

Lucy. But she never said a word to me — 

Edward. No use — she doesn't understand a word of English. 
Besides, I told her to keep away from us at present. 

Lucv. Why? 

Edward. I wanted to have you alone to myself the day of 
our marriage— no one to pry into our secrets— to watch us — 

Lucy. I don't rightly understand it all yet — "What had she to 
cry about at church ? 

Edward. What? incredulous still? Poor Fanehon was en- 
gaged to a hussar — who died only a week ago — Perhaps our wed- 
ding brought up bitter thoughts of what might have been for 
her — 

Lucy. Oh — Edward ! (holds out both hands to him). How I 
have wronged you — Forget and forgive— think of all the excite- 
ment that I have gone through— the ceremony — the reception 
afterwards — the parting and journey— and then — 

Edward. And then — your doubts of me— your absurd jeal- 
ousy— (shaking his finger at her). I hope hereafter you will 
have more confidence in me — and never jump at conclusions as 
you did just now. 

Lucy. Oh — Edward, dear ; I never thought of it in that way — 
How much, indeed, you have to forgive ! but then, you know, 
(archly) to err is human — to forgive, divine — 

Edward. My Lucy! (embraces her). I think our wedding 
journey is ended at last — What troubles will sometimes arise from 
a slight misimderstanding. — Come. {Exeunt. 



ZE DAYLIGHT VEEL COAM." 



A DIALECT SKETCH. 

[Founded on THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH'S poem, "The Fencing Master."] 
Written expressly for this Work. 



CRABAC TEES. 

Etienne D'Estaing, a Fencing -Master, formerly Captain of 

Volunteers in the Union Service. 
Charles Cary Dalton, formerly a Private in the Confederate 

Cavalry. 
Julie D'Estaing, the Fencing Master's Daughter. 
Scrooim, Landlord of the Tenement House. 



SCEXE.— Tlie Fencing Master's apartments meagrely furnished. 
Two Chairs, a Table on which are Foils and Masks, Swords 
and Foils against the Wall, and in Corners, a handsome 
Sabre suspended from the wall. Doors E and L. D'Estaing 
discovered seated, C. 

D'Estaing (solus). Ah ! ah ! Eet ees ze same, allze time. Ze 
dun — ze dun ! ze lan'lord, ze boockair, ze bakair, ze boy wiz ze 
meelk ! All want ze cash monnaie, an' I 'ave 'im none. One 
time I 'ave monnaie — zen I 'ave Men'. Now I 'ave no monnaie, 
I 'ave no Men'. Zen I ; ave pupeel in plenty; now I 'ave one. 
ISTo mattair, ze night is black — all cloud, no star; bote ze day- 
light veel coam.' (Rises.) Courage, D'Estaing! yourself an' 
your daughtair — ah ! zere is more trooble. Julie 'ave good place 
seex niont' ago, bote she leave 'im. Yy ? She go from me— she 
become gouvernanie to 'elp me. She go vay, yoang, beautifool, 
light heart — ah ! la jolie fille. She coam back in seek mont', 
wizout spireet, wizout colaire, an' she get more pale, more triste 
every day. Yy ? Ees she in loaf? It may be. Bote viz whom? 
She veel naut tell. She mos' tell. Julie ! 

Enter Julie, r. 

Julie. Did you call, father ? 

D'Estaing. I did call, ma chere. Seet down. I vood talk to 
you. Julie, you 'ave no muzzair. She die ven you vas four year 
ole, an' I vas in ze armee. 



Julie. My dear mother 



32 



"ZE DAYLIGHT VEEL COAM." 33 

D'Estaing. Ze var vas done. I coain 'ome. Tas I naut 
muzzair as veil as fazzair to you? 

Julie. You were, lather. You have been all that is good and 
kind to me. 

D'Estaing. I toil to geef you education, mais, eet vas my duty. 
You grow ope fine girl. One year ago zis day, you say to me — 
"Mon plre, you toil, an' I do nozzing. I 'ave got place as gouv- 
ernante at good mice. Let me go to Mee-sess Ford.' 7 I say— 
"Eef you veel, you may go." Ah! you laugh, you seeng ! you 
ver' 'appy. You stay seex mont'. Zen you coam back. You say 
— "I 'ave leave Mee-sess Ford for ze present. I 'ave one niont' 
vage ovair, Yen she vant me soon, she sen' for me.'' She 'ave 
Devair send, an' you do naut laugh, you do not seeng now, you 
are melancholic all ze time. Eet ees soam deep trooble. Vat 
ees set i Am 1 uaut entitle to your confidence ? 

Julie. 0, father ! it is hard to tell even you. 

D'Estaing. Ah ! ees eet vat veel — make me— bloash® 

Julie (proudly). Father, I am Julie D'Estaing ! 

D'Estaing. Zen eet ees all right. Poaverty, misery, hungaire — 
ze y are nozzing eef honnaire be unsoiled. Bote vy not tell me 
zen ? 

Julie. I will tell you, father. You know that Mrs. Ford has a 
daughter about my age. The other two children were youug, 
and over these I was governess. 

D'Estaing. Ah, ya-es. Go on. 

Julie. They were all very kind. The children loved me— the 
parents made me part of the family ; I scarcely felt I was a hire- 
ling. 

D'Estaing. Vy not? Monsieur Ford is a ver' fine man, mais 
he deal in pork. You are ze last branch of an ole family tree. 
Veil ! 

Julie. There was a gentleman from the South who came to 
the house at times, and finally very frequently. He was very 
agreeable, and — and he singled me out — the governess — for par- 
ticular attention. As he was wealthy and handsome, I felt it 
was mere kindness. But gradually his manner became marked. 
One day I was alone in the parlor — Annabel was out, and Mrs. 
Ford up stairs, when he came in. 

D'Estaing. Ya-es, he coam in ? 

Julie. How it happened I do not know, but he took my hand, 
and it ended by his declaring— but he had no time to finish, or I 
to answer, before Mrs. Ford came in. She remained there while 
he remained, and he was obliged to go away at last, without fin- 
ishing what he had to say. 

D'Estaing. Zat ees all clear. Veil? 

Julie. Then Mrs. Ford said to me, in the kindest tones — "Have 
we not always treated you well, Julie?" I replied — "Yes ! and 
I am very grateful for it. " "Then, "she said, "you can show 



34 "ZE DAYLIGHT VEEL.COAM." 

your gratitude. The gentleman who has left us is very rich, and 
though of middle age, is handsome and agreeable. His attentions 
are enough to turn any girl's head. He is engaged to Annabel, 
and they are to be married within a month. His flirtation is not. 
only anmsult to you, but it makes Annabel very unhappy." 
Oh ! father, can you imagine how I felt ? 

D'Estaing (fiercely). I know vat I feel. Go on. 

Julie. " He shall not flirt with me," I said, proudly ; "I will 
teach him better." " You are a right-principled girl," she said, 
" and I expected so much. But men will be foolish, and a little 
wicked, the best of them, and so long as you are here — " ' ' Then, " 
I said, " I shall leave at once." "But," she answered, " I don't 
wish to lose you. "We all think too much of you. Take a 
month's wages extra, remain at home for the present, and when 
they are married, I shall send for you." But I have never heard 
from her since. 

D'Estaing. Yat ees ze name of zat gentleman ? 

Julie. I shall not name him, father ; you would only do some- 
thing rash. 

D'Estaing. Eaesh ! No ! Bote I veel mek of 'im an example ! 

Julie. Father, no ! You should not harm him. No ! for — oh, 
father ! in spite of all — pity, but do not blame my weakness, I 
love him ! 

D'Estaing. Shame, shame ! Loaf a man zat do not loaf you ! 
Tere ees your pride ? 

Julie. Ah ! it is all gone. 

D'Estaing. Veil, soche ees ze sex — eetcannautbe'elp. But, 
brighten up ! ze night is black — all cloud, no star ; bote ze day- 
light veel coam. [Knocking at l. 

Zere is some one— pupeel, may be. Queek ! go to your cliam- 
bre, Julie. Ye veel talk more ofzis. [Exit Jttlie, r. 

Eet ees no pupeel — eet ees dun ; but I would not be humiliate 
before my shild. Coam in, sair. 

Enter Dalton, l. 

D alton. Captain D'Estaing, I presume. 

D'Estaing. At your sairvice, sair. 

Dalton. I am a little rusty in my swordsmanship, sir, and I 
should like to arrange for a few lessons. 

D'Estaing. I sail be mos' 'appy. Koasty ? Zen you 'ave fence 
before. I mos' study your style. Yeel you honnarr me ? 
(Takes foils, and hands one to Dalton.) 

Dalton. Certainly, with pleasure. 

D'Estaing. On guard, monsieur. 
(Thexj cross swords and make a few passes. Dalton touches 
D'Estaing three times in succession.) 

D'Estaing. Ah ! so? To beezness zen. 



"ZE DAYLIGHT VEEL COAM." 35 

(Attacks furiously. Tliey fence, and D'Estaing is disarmed, 
lie stands astonished, and then recovers himself.) 

D'Estaing. Sair, you vant lesson— you! You 'ave eye of 
hawk, wrist of valebone, hand of steel. You sail geef lesson, 
young man — not take zem. You are feet to use zat sabre on ze 
vail. 

Dalton. It seems to be a fine weapon, sir. A Toledo, is it 
not ? 

D'Estaing (talcing it down.) Zat ees so. Mais, zere is history 
wiz zis. 

Dalton. A story? I should like to hear it. 

D'Estaing. Eet ees wiz plaisir, I tell eet to a gentleman who 
fence like you. (Knocking, l.) Coam in ! 

Enter Scrooim, l. 

Scrooim. See here, Mountseer Distinct ; have you your rent 
ready — twenty dollars — it's been overdue a week, and — 
D'Estaing. Excuse me ; I 'ave been again disappoint — 
Scrooim. Oh, yes ! You're always disappointed. You're the 
worst disappointed man in this house. But you'll pay up by to- 
morrow, or out you go. 

(Dalton crosses in front of D'Estaing to landlord, shows latter 
a bill, and then presses it in his hand.) 

Scrooim. Oh! oh! yes! It's all right, sir. I beg pardon, 
mountseer; I couldn't have troubled you, only I had some money 
to make up. Good morning, mountseer. Good morning, sir. 

[Exit Landlord, l. 

D'Estaing. Oh, ze humiliate of ze poor ! 

Dalton. Pah ! Captain, he is not worth a second thought— a 
rough brute. But I must not lose the story. 

D'Estaing. Ah, yaes— ze story of ze sword. Pray seet, sair. 
(They sit.) You mus' know zen zat I vas on ze Union side in ze 
late var ; an' I vas at Fredericksbourg, ven ve try to take ze 
height, sair, a handful of men could hole zat, an' we charge ope 
hill right into Venfer. Eet vas brave— splendeed ! mais, it vas 
not var ! Ye charge ope ze slope two, tree, several time, an' ze 
cannon ball an' ze grape mow us like ze grass. Flaish an' blode 
could not stand it ; ze end vas zat we camp zat night at ze rivaire, 
an' ze question vas naut how to take ze height nex' day, but 'ow 
to get ovair ze rivaire all safe. You ketch ze situation by ze 
tail, eh ? J 

Dalton. I understand it perfectly. 

D'Estaing. I was lieutenant, an' I 'ave command of ze 
peeket. About ten o'clock of ze night, ve 'ear ze tramp of 'orse- 
men coaming in full sharge. So as zey coam up, ve give zem a vol- 
ley. Zey turn and run ver' quick. But one, he toamble from his 



36 "ZE DAYLIGHT VEEL COAM." 

'orse. I go to 'im— poor fellow ! an' mafoi! he zhjump to his 
feet, an' make pass at me, comme ca ! 1 cross sword wiz him, an' 
ze res' get row, au' laugh like mad, to see us fight duel zere. I 
toche him — as you did me to-day, tree time, an zen, as you did 
me to-day, I disarm 'im. Before I say Zhjack Robson, veetch I 
'ad no mine to say, he draw pistol, an' ave I not dodge, I vas not 
'ere. As it vas it make scratch— see 'ere. (shows scar on head.) 
I git mad, I grap 'im by bose arm, an' zen I vas shame. It vas a 
boy ! naut sixteen year ole. 

Dalton. Ha! ha! 

D'Estaing. I say — "Boolly boy, wiz glass eye ! you crow veil 
before you 'ave spur. Has } T uer muzzair auy more such cockerel 
in ze brood ?" He laugh — He say — "Zere is mark of my spur on 
your 'ead. "Who veel geef me drink?'' Two, tree, twenty can- 
teen vas shove out ; bote he turn pale, an' he toamble. I raise 
'im, I sink 'im dead— no ! he vos 'live. Ye take him in, an' ovair 
ze rivair, ze surgeon feex him ope, an' I nursed 'im. Ven he got 
veil, ze prison did not ketch 'im— he ran avay. 

Dalton. Possibly you helped him. 

D'Estaing. Ah ! no ! I knew my duty. Bote I vink a leetle. 
I 'ave nevair seen zat brave boy, whom I grew to loaf, from zat 
day to zis. I vould like to see zat beardless face again. Bote 
zat is his sword. 

Dalton. I should Like to buy that weapon, if I could persuade 
you to part with it. 

D'Estaing. No, sair — no ! Poor as I am, I can not sell zat 
sword. Ze beautiful boy ! brave as a lion ! careless as ze vincl ! 
Vere is he now ? I dragged 'im, ze doctor said, from ze jaw of ze 
grave; an' I loafe 'im as ve loafe vat ve pres-erve. I can not 
part wiz zis. Bote excuse me — your face ees — I 'ave seen some- 
vair — your name ees — 

Dalton. Dalton. 

D'Estaing. Daltong! Daltong! I 'ave not ze plaiser to re- 
membaire. 

Dalton. Possibly yon could know me better by another name. 
I was in the war, but on the other side. When the war closed I 
found my parents dead, and the estate gone. I came .North to 
look for employment, and went to my mother's brother. He was 
very rich, an old bachelor, and had adhered to the North. He 
died a year since, and left me his fortune, on condition I could 
add his name, Dalton, to my own. When I was in the Confed- 
erate service 1 was Charles Cary. 

D'Estaing. Caree! Charles! Zat is impossible. You 'ave 
'eavy moustache — you are at least thir-tyyear— ah ! you smile! I 
ad forgot ze fifteen year— my brave boy ! my brave boy ! 

Dalton. God bless you, my dear old friend ! you haven't for- 
gotten the young scapegrace. 



"ZE DAYLIGHT VEEL COAM." 37 

D'Estaing. Ah ! zis is 'appy — a la bonne lieure. Julie ! I 'ave 
talk so moche of you to my daughtair — she mos' see you. Julie ! 

Enter Julie, r. 

Dalton. Julie ! 

Julie. I am glad to see you, Mr. Dalton. May I inquire after 
the health of Mrs. Dalton V 

Dalton. Mrs. Dalton ! What do you mean, Julie ? I am 
not married. 

Julie. Have you not yet fulfilled your engagement with Miss 
Ford ? 

Dalton. I was never engaged to her ! never her suitor — and 
love no one, Julie, but you. 

D'Estaing. Yat ! ees zis ze gentleman at Mees-ess Ford— 

Julie. Yes, father. 

Dalton. Then you spoke of me, thought of me— I am not in- 
different to you, Julie ! Ah, D'Estaing! old friend! you nursed 
me back to life once. "Will you give me now what renders life 
worth having ? 

D'Estaing. Zat ees for Julie, bote I know vat she vill say. 
You are brave man — I loaf you ! bote, I lose my only daughtair. 

Dalton. No ! you and I shall fence, smoke together, and 
delight over old battles. You have not lost a daughter — you 
shall gain a son. 

D'Estaing. Take her zen — she is yours. Ah ! Julie ! vat did 
I tell you % Ze night vas black — all cloud, no star ; bote ze day- 
light veel coam ! 

Julie, r., D'Estaing, c, Dalton, l. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 



A BAD HABIT CURED. 

A2ST EXHIBITION DIALOGUE. 



CRABA CTEBS. 

Mr. Hardy. 

Mrs. Hardy. 

Ida, their Daughter. 



SCENE. — Stage arranged as a family room. Mrs. Hardy seated 
sewing. Ida on the eve of starting to School with Books, 
etc., etc. 

Ida. Well ! I'm off, like a shot from a gun ! 

Mrs. Hardy. Stop a moment, daughter ; I want to speak to 
you. 

Ida (surprised). What's hurtin' you ? You look awful sober. 
Are you a down-pin ? 

Mrs. Hardy. It is in reference to just such language as that 
you have used that I wish to speak with you — I do wish you could 
be induced to give up the unladylike habit you have acquired of 
using slang; such expressions as " a down-pin " and "not by a 
jug full/' etc. 

Ida. Why, mamma, it's the fashion to talk slang — Everybody — 
that is, the girls at school — all use those phrases. 

Mrs. Hardy. Not everybody, my dear. People who are really 
refined do not indulge in such language. Well bred ladies and 
gentlemen never use slang. Consider a moment, Ida, how coarse 
and vulgar it would appear in your father and myself if it were 
our habit to talk after this fashion. 

Ida (laughs). I don't know, it would be awful comical and 
jolty, I fancy — Odd, too — I wish you would, then we'd be a whole 
team, wouldn't we ? (Cloclc strikes.) But, mercy, there's the 
clock ! I must skip the tra-la-loo ! Good bye, I must absquatu- 
late. \_ Exit Ida.. 

Mrs. Hardy (sighs, looks after Ida). What shall I do to 
break Ida of this absurd and vulgar habit ? I wonder if I can fall 
upon some plan to show her how totally unladylike it is — 
Heigh-ho ! 

v 38 



A BAD HABIT CUBED. 39 

Enter Sam. 

Sam. What has happened, mamma ? You look serious. 

Mrs. Hardy. And I feel serious. I have just been expostu- 
lating with your sister in regard to the coarse habit she has fallen 
into of using by- words. 

Sam. It all comes from associating with other school girls. 
Perhaps she may learn better after a while. 

Mrs. Hardy. Yes, I know it is the association; alas for 
school girls of the present day ! I tremble for their future. 

Sam. True. But bear in mind that one woman cannot revolu- 
tionize the world ; it is folly for you to attempt a reformation 
among the future wives and mothers of the country. 

Mrs. Hardy. I may at least attempt a reformation in my 
own family, especially if I can induce you all to help me. 

Enter Mr. Hardy and Charles. 

Mr. Hardy. What ! does my wife want help ? 

Mrs. Hardy. Indeed I do. I want to break Ida of a bad 
habit she has acquired. 

Charles. Ida ! not sister Ida. 

Mrs. Hardy. Yes ; Ida, our own Ida ; she has every by- word 
in use at her tongue's end, and talks more like a hired girl than a 
genteel young lady. 

Mr. Hardy. Well! what is your plan? Of course we will 
assist you in any legitimate way. 

Mrs. Hardy. The way is simple — When she returns from 
school I wish each and all of us to adopt the most popular slang 
phrases in answer to whatever she may ask — 

Mr. Hardy. Capital! 

Sam. Yes. I am sure if she once sees herself as others see her 
she will feel ashamed and give up the abominable habit. 

Charles. Yes, but you could never talk slang — you're too 
dignified, I'm sure. 

Sam. Do not mistake (looTcs out) but see! Ida is coming; some- 
thing has happened to interrupt her school. 

Enter Ida, breathless. 

Mr. Hardy. Halloo, pard ! what's up ? 

Ida (astonished, drops books). There's a meeting of the School 
Board, and you bet we were all glad. You should have seen the 
girls skip. 

Mrs. Hardy. 0, cheese it ! I don't take that in mine. 

Ida (laughs constrainedly). !Nor I either. (Picks up guitar, 
runs fingers over strings). 

Mr. Hardy. I say, sis, shut that off— I can't stand the racket. 

Ida (astonished^. Why, papa! 

Mr. Hardy. Give us a rest — as hash is ready. — 



40 A BAD HABIT CURED. 

Sam. Let's walta down to it— Sis, pull down your vest. 

Ida (draws breath as if overcome with surprise.) 

Charles. Hasn't this been a rattlin' old day ? 

Sam. Hunkey dory ! we'll call it a day off, eh, Ida? 

Ida. You are all topsy-turvey — 

Charles. Bet your sweet life, sis. Say! How are you at 
school. Up a tree, hey? 

Ida (defiantly). Yes — at the top ; (to Mr. Hardy) papa, may 
I take lessons from Miss Parker? She's awful sweet. The girls 
just go wild over her. She's made a mark on the whole school — 

Mr. Hardy. Then she must be bully ! — Do you think she 
knows her biz? 

Ida (siiodiiedly). I suppose she does — 

Mr. Hardy. Find out, for if she doesn't, I don't tumble — It's 
not every mosey who sets herself up that makes the hest teacher, 
and that kind of thing is gauzy, about played out — 

Ida. She is not played out — if you could hear her perform you 
wouldn't think so. 

Mr. Hardy. You think so, my tender cherub, but some 
teachers don't pan out worth a cent. 

Sam. You bet! 

Charles. Can she teach nobby pieces? 

Mrs. Hardy. 0, I guess she's some pun-kins. 

Mr. Hardy. If she is ail hunky, you can skip round the corner 
and take lessons from the fair damosel. 

Sam. 0, stop your racket ! I want my grab. 

Charles. You've got more cheek, Sam, than a government 
mule. 

Sam. Don't give me any of your lip, you may get a moss agate 
over your orb of vision — 

Mr. Hardy. O, boys, dry up your chin music. 

Ida (comes forward). Papa! papa ! pray stop ! it is hideous — 
I know what you are all doing, and why. I'll promise anything 
if you will only not talk slang. 

Mrs. Hardy. My dear, we only wished to show you yourself 
as others see you. 

Ida. I know it — 1 know it — and I am cured. I never dreamed 
it was half so horrible — and I ask everybody's pardon. But, 
papa (to Mr. Hardy), I never talked as you did ; where did you 
learn slang ? 

Mr. Hardy. I am sorry to say I hear it every day among my 
clerks, and have been tempted to fine them ; b.ut when my own 
daughter— 

Ida. 0, papa — d-o-n-t, d-o-n-t (covers face with hands.) 

Mr. Hardy. Well, then, I won't (draws Ida towards Mm). 
I think yon have had a good lesson, and we will resume our 
usual polite manner, hoping our dear Ida will never forget she is 
a lady, and again be tempted to talk slang — [Exeunt. 



LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 

A PETITE COMEDY. 



CRAB A CTEBS. 



Mr. Barrons. 
Mrs. Barrons. 
Frank, their son. 



Elizabeth, Frank's cousin. 
Bessie, maid-of-all-work. 
Farmer Strong. 



SCENE I.— A Sitting Boom. 

Mr. and Mrs. Barrons, dressed to go out ; discovered. 

Enter Frank. 

Frank. There is no use in talking, father . Say what yon will, 
I never can be induced to marry my cousin Elizabeth! A union 
formed upon compulsion, could never be otherwise than produc- 
tive of wretchedness and even eventually positive hatred on both 
sides. There is enough unhappiness to" be found in the world at 
all times, without going deliberately to work to secure it perma- 
nently, after this fashion. 

Mr. Barrons. Now, Frank, that's all nonsense ! Tour cousin 
Elizabeth is as good a girl as you could nnd anywhere ; pretty, 
accomplished, and excellent company, I can assure you ! A girl 
every way worthy of you ! 

Frank. I'm ready to subscribe to any amount of good qualities 
as belonging to her, father, and in fact havn't a word to say 
against her, except that I most positively and decidedly decline 
the honor of making her my wife. No doubt she has plenty of 
acquaintances where she is — suitors even, perhaps ; let her make 
one of them happy by the bestowal of her charms, and not force 
upon me a wife who, desirable as she might be to anyone else, is, 
I am sure, entirely uncongenial to me— and moreover whom I 
nave never seen. 

Mr. Barrons. I give you my word, Frank, she has no suitors 
to stand in your way. To be sure you have never seen her, but 
we have, and we do not hesitate a moment in affirming that she 
will make you a most excellent wife. And yon know it was the 
wish of her parents, as well as our own desire, that yon and she 
should marry one another. 

Frank. A satisfactory arrangement, truly ! Both of us bar- 
gained off like mere chattels, and not so much as allowed a voice 

41 



42 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 

in the matter ! Father I mother ! I'm ashamed of yon, for con- 
senting to such an arrangement! "Why, it's enough to kill all 
love, and even respect, at the very outset! If my cousin Eliza- 
beth is a girl of any character, she will assuredly refuse to fulfill 
such a contract, as I most decidedly do ! Why, I'd rather marry 
our rosy-cheeked Bessie, here, than my aristocratic cousin, who 
doubtless Avould turn up her nose at me if it were not for my 
prospective fortune ! That is all girls marry for now-a-days ! I'd 
a thousand times rather have an innocent, unsophisticated little 
maiden, who could have no such mercenary motives. The man 
who won her hand would be sure that her heart went with it. 

Mr. Barrons (drily). You seem to have imbibed a very eulo- 
gistic opinion of our domestic ! I give you fair warning, Frank, 
that if you contract any alliance that is beneath you, you need 
never expect to inherit a shilling of my money. I'm not going to 
offer a premium for any such wilfullness ! 

Mrs. Barrons. Come, Frank, you are on your high horse, and 
you neither know nor care what you are saying ! "When we bring 
your cousin Elizabeth here, and you get acquainted with her, 
you'll soon find out what a mistaken opinion you have formed of 
her ; and if, when you once know her, your resentment doesn't 
all vanish, and you be willing to marry her at the earliest day we 
may appoint, I'll be willing to forfeit a thousand dollars ! 

Frank (laughing). You may as well give me a check for the 
amount at once, mother ! for the money is as good as mine al- 
ready. If my cousin or I find sufficient attraction in each other 
to induce us to accept each other's society through life, it will be 
a marvel past comprehension ! 

Mrs. Barrons. Don't be too sure ! Stranger things than that 
have happened ! But we must be off, or Elizabeth will be at the 
depot before us. First, however, I will leave some directions for 
your comfort. Bessie ! 

Enter Bessie. 

Bessie. Yes, ma'am ! What do you wish? 

Mrs. Barrons. Is the best bedroom all ready for our guest, 
Bessie ? 

Bessie. Yes, ma'am. I arranged it the first thing this morn- 
ing. 

Mrs. Barrons. That's right! "Well, make the house tidy, 
and get Mr. Frank a nice lunch at noon, and then have a good 
dinner for us, for I expect our ride will make us hungry. Good- 
bye, Frank ! I shall want you to have your best suit on when 
your cousin comes, in order that you may appear as well in her 
eyes as possible. There's nothing like first impressions, you 
know! 

Frank. Indeed, mother, my cousin will have to take me just 
as I am, for I don't mean to make the slightest change in my ap- 



DVE IN A COTTAGE. 43 

parel ! and if my appearance should succeed in frightening her 
back to the city, I shall he so much the better pleased. 

Mr. Barrons. Frank, you are incorrigible ! but when you 
stand face to face with your cousin, you'll talk and act differ- 
ently ; for I suspect that with allyour pretended indifference, you 
are more than half in love with her already. However, time will 
show. Good-bye ! 

Mrs. Barrons. Good-bye, Frank ! Bessie, come and hold 
my shawl while 1 get into the carnage. 
t Frank. Good-bye, mother ! I hope you'll have a pleasant 
ride with my fascinating cousin ! 

Mrs. Barrons. Come, Bessie ! 

[Exit Mr. and Mrs. Barrons and Bessie. 

Frank (solus). I declare, if it isn't enough to make a fellow 
hang or drown himself, or do something equally desperate ! Hang 
the money, I say ! I don't think I ever knew an instance where 
it did not prove more of a curse than a comfort to the possessors ! 
Because, forsooth, my cousin happens to have a little money — 
and I believe it's all she has got, or she would have raised a pro- 
test long ago against such an arrangement — which she expects to 
increase from my father's coffers. I've got to be tied to her nolens 
volens ! If it wasn't that mother would be so lonesome without 
me, I'd be tempted to take advantage of her absence, and run 
away. 

Enter Bessie. 

Bessie. "What will yon be pleased to have for lunch, Mr 
Frank ? 

Frank. Get me whatever you please, Bessie ! Anything that 
your deft little fingers prepare will taste good to me. 

Bessie. Very well, Mr. Frank. [Exit Bessie. 

Frank (looking after her). How all that people call " fashion " 
dwindle into distasteful insignificance before the simple, natural 
grace of that young girl ! There is something so fresh, so breezy, 
so constantly new and attractive about her, that it is a positive 
delight to have her in the house ! A sweet, modest little maiden ! 
and altogether superior, I dare wager, to my much quoted and 
equally detested cousin, in spite of father's and mother's eulo- 
giums — Heigho ! what a world of cross purposes this is ? ^ How- 
ever, my mind is made up on one point ; if my inheriting the for- 
tune my father may leave behind him is contingent upon my 
marrying my cousin Elizabeth, I'll give it up without a murmur, 
and go out and work my own way, unassisted, through the 
world. And now, I guess I'll take a short stroll, so as to get up 
an appetite for the good things which Bessie doubtless is prepar- 
ing for me— the little jewel ! [Exit Frank. 



44 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 

SCE2H3 II. — A Cosy Breakfast Boom.— Bessie setting the 
Table for Lunch. 

Bessie. Well, I never expected to be so happy in the accom- 
plishment of my project as I have been ! Mr. and Mrs. Barrens 
are as kind to me as if I was their own child; and as for Mr. 
Frank — ah {puts her hand over her heart), how the •very- 
thought of him, or mention of his name, stirs my heart to its 
utmost depths A better or more affectionate son, a kinder 
friend, never breathed ! such a gentle courtesy toward all, no 
matter what their station may be, that it is a pleasure to hear him 
speak or do anything for him ! And of late there has seemed to 
be something in his manner toward me that would indicate an 
interest in me deeper than mere friendship. I wonder if when 
Miss Elizabeth comes in her fashionable attire and polished city 
manners, he will forget the humble little Bessie, whoso heart his 
kindly words has so often made to thrill with joy, whose affec- 
tions before she was well aware of it have crept out of her heart, 
and timidly knocked at his for entrance ! Oh ! ho cannot, can- 
not but be his own true, noble self through every circumstance 
and emergency ! But I must stop talking sentiment right here, 
and ring the bell to call him to his lunch. \_Exit Bessie. 



SCEXE in. — Sitting Boom — Frank enters and throws himself 
disconsolately into a Chair. 

Frank. "Well, my walk, so far as quieting my nerves and re- 
storing my spirits is concerned, has proved a most ignominious 
failure ! All that I have succeeded in doing has been to tire my 
body, and leave my mind more hopelessly disturbed and discon- 
tented than ever ! I wish I did know what was the matter with 
me, nowadays — why it is that I feel so restless and out of humor 
with my self "and everybody around me ! everybody at least, but 
our little nightingale of a housekeeper, who is enough to exorcise 
any number of unpleasant spirits ! I used to be very well con- 
tented with my condition before ! but some mischievous imp has 
got into my heart and has turned everything topsy turvy. I'd 
lite to discover what it is ! 
(A knock at the Boor.) 

"Who's that, I wonder ? 2s"ot my cousin Elizabeth, I hope, come 
beforehand to take me by surprise — (aloud) — Come in ! 

Enter Farmer Strong. 

Frank. Oh ! good morning, neighbor Strong ! pleasant 
weather, isn't it — (aside) — what on earth can he want to be 
poking around here for, I wonder? 

Strong. Yes, beautiful weather ! the crops are looking splen- 
did, too ! Ah I hum — are the old folks home, Mr. Frank ? 



LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 45 

Frank {aside). Old folks, indeed ! just like his outrageous, 
clownish manners !— (aloud) — ray lather and mother are away 
this morning, neighbor Strong. Was your business with, them 
anything of importance? 

Strong (fid getting). Well, yes — rather! You see I — I — 
thought — wanted — 

Frank (aside). What a time he makes ! if I were a woman, 
I'd feel sure that he was going to propose to me ! [Aloud.) Per- 
haps I could do just as well for you as my parents, neighbor 
Strong. I have a general insight into their business affairs. If 
I can be of any service to j r ou, I'd be very happy to help you ! 

Strong. Well it t'aint 'xactly what you might call business, 
and yet I don't know but what it is, too ! The fact is, I've been 
throwing my eye over here for some time back — 

Frank [in surprise). Over here? You don't contemplate buy- 
ing the place ? I'm sure I've no idea that my father has any 
intention of selling ! 

Strong. Haw I haw ! haw ! buy the place f I rather guess 
not ! I ain't quite so rich as that yet, though I hope to be some 
day ; 'specially with a smart thrifty wife to help one save money. 

Frank (laughing). Yes, if you're lucky enough to get one of 
the thrifty kind ! 

Strong. And that's just what I've come over here to get ! You 
see I've had my eye on your Bessie for some time, and I thought 
if your folks had no objection, I'd like to hitch teams with her. 

Frank [aside). Our Bessie ! Fire and furies ! And to this 
clodhopper ! 

Strong. I h'aint said nothing to the gal yet, 'cause I wanted 
to get their consent first. I calculated to spark her this Winter, 
you see, while my new shanty is a -building, and then get married 
and have a house-warming in the Spring. What do you think of it? 

Frank (coldly). I think the most important part of the matter 
would be to get the young lady's consent first ! , 

Strong. Oh, of course! that's what I came over for; to start 
the matter. I don't think there'll be any trouble about the gal; 
they all calculate to get married some time or other you know ! 
and if I do say it myself, I don't believe she could do much 
better! 

Frank (aside). Much worse, you had better say, you con- 
ceited numbskull ! 

Strong. Well, I s'pose it's all right, and I can have the gal ? 

Frank. Beally, I have no authority in the matter. You'll 
have to apply to my parents ! 

Strong. Weil, I s'pose so ! When will they be home ? 

Frank (coldly). I really can't say. Probably not until late. 

Strong. Well, I'll call over to-morrow afternoon then. You'll 
just mention to Bessie that I came over, so that she can be a 
little prepared, will you ? 



46 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 

Frank. I'll think about it. {Aside.) Confound his impudence ! 

Strong. All right. I'll be on time to-morrow. The gal's a 
good cook, isn't she ? 

Frank. She's an excellent housekeeper in all respects. 

Strong. So I thought. Well, you'd better tell her, so that she 
can be getting her fixiu's ready. Good morning ! 

[Exit Strong. 

Frank {jumping up, and walking excitedly up and down). 
Confound that fellow's presumption ! I could hardly keep from 
knocking him down ! The idea of his thinking for a moment to 
obtain our Bessie ! our shy, sensitive, little housekeeper ! that 
goes ahead of anything I ever heard ! And yet — it isn't possible 
she might learn to care for him ! There ! the mystery's solved 
now ! that fellow's words have cut into my heart like the sur- 
geon's knife, and laid bare the cause of my trouble. Strange tbat 
I didn't know before how dearly I loved the little darling, until 
there came a prospect of losing her. If my eyes had been opened 
sooner, I might have spared father and mother their journey to- 
day ; I might have told them why the prospect of a union with 
my cousin Elizabeth, which I used to regard as an event very 
likely to happen, has become of late so obnoxious to me ; that 
the bright face and winning ways of our neat attractive little 
Bessie have crept into my affections almost before I was aware 
of it, and made the idea of leaving her or maintaining toward her 
the deportment merely of a friend, one which I cannot hold for a 
moment with any peace or comfort. (Bell rings.) But there ! 
lunch is ready. I must make up my mind as to whether I shall 
mention that presumptuous fellow's proposal or not. \_Exit. 



SCENE IY '.—Breakfast Boom. 
Enter Frank. 

Bessie {putting dishes on the table). Tour lunch is all ready, 
Mr. Frank. • 

Frank (seating himself ). And a tempting little repast it is, 
too ! Bessie, you are the very pink of housekeepers ! 

Bessie (blushing). Please don't flatter me, Mr. Frank ! 

Frank (smiling). "Why not, Bessie? You do your best to 
please us, do you not ? 

Bessie. I try to, Mr. Frank ! 

Frank. Well, is not one who diligently tries to do her duty 
worthy of all commendation? 

Bessie. "Well, perhaps so! — but there, I forgot the sauce for 
your pudding ! [Exit Bessie. 

Frank (atone). "What a beautiful blush rises to her face when- 
ever I speak to her — the shy little darling ! How it would en- 



LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 4? 

hance the enjoyment of this meal to have her sweet face as my 
vis-avis across the table! (Pauses a moment.) I'll do it! I 
declare I will! this visit of Strong's has put my heart into such a 
flutter of anxious disquietude that it cannot be calmed but by a 
frank expression to Bessie of the state of my feelings toward her, 
and some kind of an understanding between us ! I have hoped 
at times that she did regard me with favor ; but I've no right to 
think I can wait my time, and expect her to remain constant to 
me when I give her no intimation of the state of my heart toward 
her ; that would be a most ungenerous way of rewarding her 
goodness. No ; the risk, slight as it is, of Strong's winning her, 
is too serious to be run. I'll plead my cause, and then if 1 have 
been mistaken, I'll tell her of his offer. But if the darling really 
loves me ; then, when this fine lady cousin of mine makes her 
appearance, it will be only to find a most effectual barrier be- 
tween us ! 

Enter Bessie. 

Bessie. Here it is, Mr. Frank! Did I keep you waiting? 

(Places dish on table.) 

Frank. Ko, Bessie. I wasn't waiting. 

Bessie. But you haven't tasted a mouthful of your lunch yet. 
Does it not please you ? Was it cooked wrong? 

Frank. I wouldn't be afraid to venture all I'm worth, or likely 
to be, that it's tip-top, Bessie, even before tasting it. I believe 
you're incapable of preparing anything to be otherwise than deli- 
cious. But I was thinking— (stops and looks abstractedly over 
the table). 

Bessie. "Well, Mr. Frank ? 

Frank. I was thinking how uninteresting it seems to be eating 
here all alone by one's self! "Won't you bear me company, 
Bessie ? it's only fair that you should enjoy the fruit of your own 
labors, and I should like to see your bright face across the table, 
just for once. 

Bessie. You do me much honor, Mr. Frank, and I appreciate 
your good opinion of me, but I must decline, nevertheless. 

Frank. And why so, pray ? 

Bessie. Tou cannot but be sensible, Mr. Frank, of the differ- 
ence between us — 

Frank (interrupting). Difference ? what difference ? Except 
that I'm a little taller, and somewhat stronger, and not half so 
good looking as you, I don't see any wonderful difference ! 

Bessie. Difference in position, 1 mean, Mr. Frank. You are a 
gentleman of leisure, wealth and refinement, while I am only a 
simple, humble serving maid, working with my hands, from day 
to day, to procure myself an honest living. 

Frank. An important distinction, truly ! Here I, a great, 
good-for-nothing fellow, spend my time in doing nothing, all 



48 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 

day, except perhaps to take a ride around on my horse for an 
hour or bo, and look after father's employees, and spend the rest 
•of my time lolling over the newspapers, or some hook, and two 
or three times in a week stand in a crowded ball-room, talking 
any amount of petty nonsense to a lot-of insipid girls, while you 
trip around the house like a small sunbeam, carrying brightness 
and order wherever you go, making my abominable bachelor 
apartments look as though some fairy princess had been there 
and reduced its chaos to order and neatness, beautifying eveiy- 
thing her dainty fingers had touched ; making yourself so inval- 
uable, that we couldn't possibly do without you ! and then, 
when your well-spent day is over, resting in sweet and healthful 
slumber till the next morning comes to touch your cheek with 
new beauty and freshness ! I admit the justice of your assertion, 
Bessie ! there is a great difference between us ! but the super- 
iority is on your side, not mine ! 

Bessie. But, Mr. Frank, our social position — 

Frank {interrupting). A fig for what the world calls social 
position ! Your tastes and instincts, Bessie, are as refined and 
cultivated as mine ; and as for the fact that you flit around like 
a fairy Bountiful, busying yourself in useful employment, while 
I lounge about, as I say, like a great lazy good-for-naught, does 
not alter my opinion of you in the least ! 

Bessie. It is the pleasantest part of my labors, Mr. Frank, 
and the highest recompense I could ask for, to be treated with 
such uniform kindness and consideration, from both yourself and 
your dear parents, as I have been, ever since I became a member 
of this family. But the world has its own code of social equality 
■ — and that code, all we who live in, and form part of the world, 
must recognize and follow. So whatever may be your private 
feelings with regard to the matter, you must outwardly acknowl- 
edge and observe the difference in our respective stations. 

Frank (regarding her admiringly). Social inequality, indeed ! 
Any one, to hear you talk for live minutes, Bessie, would pro- 
nounce you a lady, both by birth and sentiment, whatever they 
might choose to think as to the position a mere chance circum- 
stance has placed you in. But you spoke of your position here ; 
have you been happy while living with us ? 

Bessie (with emotion). Yery happy, Mr. Frank. Happier 
than I could have hoped to be ! 

Frank. And so you are content to occupy a position which, 
according to your notions, places you on a lower social scale than 
if you were independent ? 

Bessie. So long as the duties I perform are legitimate and 
honorable, and I am of real use to others, I am content to occupy 
the position I hold, until I am satified that I can fill some other 
with greater advantage to myself and others. 

Frank (aside). Bravely spoken ! And if I don't convince you 



LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 4£ 

of that last argument before I leave this room, it won't be for 
want of trying ! {aloud) Do yon know who is expected here this 
evening with my parents, Bessie ? 

Bessie. Yes, Mr. Frank. Mrs. Barrons told me that it was 
yflur cousin Elizabeth. 

Frank, And do yon know that her coming is going to change 
the whole state of our domestic arrangements ? 

Bessie. I hope not, Mr. Frank. 

Frank. Your hopes can't alter matters, Bessie. In the first 
place it is more than probable that your services will be dis- 
pensed with ! 

Bessie {starting). My services, Mr. Frank? Can't I stay here 
just the same ? 

Frank. You'll find it impossible. My cousin Elizabeth, with 
her French maids and cityfied airs, will soon drive a simple, un- 
sophisticated little body Hke you out of the house. But "I'll tell 
you where you can get a situation — at Farmer Strong's. 

Bessiet Why, does he want a servant? 

Frank. No ; he wants a wife. 

Bessie. A wife ? 

Frank (regarding lier intently). Yes ; he called here not five 
minutes ago, to ask mother's permission to pay his addresses to 
you. How do you like the idea? 

Bessie. I don't like it at alL I am obliged to him for the 
compliment, but nothing could be more utterly impossible than 
for me to accept his proposal. 

Frank (aside). Bless her! (aloud.) And where will you go 
to then ? 

Bessie. I sincerely hope that matters are not so bad as that, 
Mr. Frank ! But if it becomes necessary for me to leave here I 
can find employment somewhere else, I suppose. 

Frank. And take the same despised position in some stranger's 
kitchen, I suppose. You regard the matter very philosophically, 
Bessie ! rather unfiatteringly so for us. Won't there be one pang 
of regret in your heart at leaving a family who have thought go 
much of you? 

Bessie. Deep regret, I assure you, Mr. Frank ! But stern 
obligation leaves no time or opportunity for choice or regret. 

Frank. "Well, with such a melancholy prospect before us, you 
surely will not refuse to sit down to the table here, and be sociable 
with me just for once ! 

Bessie. Mr. Frank, I must. Whatever emergency is likely to 
happen, my duty remains the same, and our position is still un- 
altered. 

Frank. And if by any act your position could be rendered 
equal to mine, would you then have any objection to complying 
with my request ? 

Bessie. There would be none existing, t/ien, Mr. Frank. The 



50 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 

change in my station would certainly remove the objection. 

Frank. It is in your power to perform such an act, Bessie ! 
Receive the position in the eyes of the world that you already 
occupy in my estimation by your innate refinement and culture. 
Be my wife. 

Bessie {drawing bad-). Mr. Frank ! you surely cannot — 

Frank {rising and taking her hand)." There is no use in en- 
deavoring to conceal my feelings any longer ! I must speak, and 
leave the issue to that kind fate which I have hitherto ever found 
propitious ! Bessie, I am terribly in earnest. The love with 
which you have inspired me grows stronger every day, until I 
could not, if I would — I would not if I coidd — shake it off ! Do 
you think I can bear the idea of your goiug away from ns, out 
into the cold, unfeeling world, among strangers, to fight your 
battles alone, and never to see your face again? You have no 
relatives ? 

Bessie. !No, Mr. Frank ; none living. 

Frank. Then let me be first, best, dearest to you ! Bessie, I 
cannot bear the thought of parting with you ! You have be- 
come absolutely necessary to my existence ! * 

Bessie. Mr. Frank, yon are excited*; you are not fully con- 
scious of your own words. Believe me, I feel honored by your 
regard for me, but I cannot do you so great a wrong ! Think of 
your father and mother,so proud of you,so ambitious for your fu- 
ture ! "What would your friends think, if you so rich, so" high in 
social standing, stooped to marry a humble servant maid 1 

Frank {earnestly). Bessie, you wrong yourself and me, by 
such comparisons ! But listen, and answer me truly, that the 
faint gleam of hope lingering in my heart be not wholly extin- 
guished. Is my position the only obstacle to your willingness to 
become my wife ? does your heart hold any love for me ? and 
were I a poor man, dependent on my own exertions, would that 
obstacle be removed % 

Bessie {struggling to free herself). Mr. Frank, don't ask me! 
Let me — 

Frank {triumphantly). I am answered! and now just let me 
detain you a few moments longer, my darling, and then you shall 
have your liberty, and decide freely for yourself. Do you know 
my parent's object in bringing my cousin Elizabeth "here ? of 
course you don't, as you have not been present at any of our re- 
cent discussions. Let me tell you, then, that it is in order to 
consummate an engagement made between us when children, 
without our knowledge or consent, by our parents. 

Bessie. A fitting match for you, Mr. Frank ! 

Frank. Fiddlesticks ! Bessie, if you make a speech like that 
again, I'll stop your mouth with a kiss ! I certainly will, you 
provoking little witch ! There is not the slightest spark of affec- 
tion in my heart for my cousin Elizabeth ; and yet my parents 



LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 51 

are so determined upon the match, that they declare that if I re- 
fuse, they will disinherit me ! 

Bessie. I am sure, Mr. Frank, I should not wish by any act 
of mine to bring such ill-fortune as that upon you ! 

Frank. Bessie, answer me honestly. Which do you think 
would be the greater ill-fortune to a man, to be compelled to 
marry one he did not love, and drag out a miserable loveless 
existence, such as no amount of money or worldly distinction 
could compensate for, or to have a sweet little wife to make each 
day seem blighter than the last, a pair of strong vigorous hands 
with which to work for her, and a heart so filled with happiness, 
joy, and courage, that nothing would be impossible to achieve? 

Bessie. You draw a vivid picture, Mr. Frank ! 

Frank. That is not an answer, Bessie ! and it is your hand 
that must draw the picture. I am not excited, nor speaking 
without due deliberation ; but the case stands here : if I cannot 
have you for my wife I will never marry ! and sooner than meet 
my cousin Elizabeth, who is indirectly the cause of all this 
trouble, I will leave the house at once ! 

Bessie. Oh, Mr. Frank, you cannot— 

Frank. Bessie, I am determined to go, unless you prevent it! 

Bessie. And how can I prevent it? 

Frank {pressing her hand). You little rogue! You know 
well enough by this time ! Marry me, at once ! 

Bessie. At once f "What will your parents say? 

Frank. Bessie, when you are "once mine beyond doubt, and I 
have from that act the right to protect and claim you, my parents 
will in time become reconciled ; and as for their money, I don't 
care for a cent of it. I have some in my own right, now ; enough 
to start with ; and I will go to work without delay. "We will pur- 
chase a neat, modest little dwelling, aud there will be "Love in a 
Cottage, "in the most charming manner possible. Come now, 
Bessie, I have overruled all your objections; and you cannot re- 
fuse me now ! Let me hear the words my heart has been hunger- 
ing to receive from your lip ; tell me that you love me ; that you 
will share my life from henceforth, and be to me the most pre- 
cious boon a kind Providence can bestow upon my sex — a loving, 
warm-hearted, devoted wife ! Is it " yes, " Bessie ? 

Bessie {glancing up shyly at him). Are you sure you would 
be happier with me than with anyone else, Mr. Frank? 

Frank {energetically). As sure as I am of my own existence, 
my darling! 

Bessie. And you will never regret such a step ? 

Frank. Look in my eyes, Bessie, and read your answer there ! 

Bessie. Then I am willing. I will be your wife. 

Frank. "Frank! " let me hear those sweet lips say "Frank"; 
my sweet one ! 

Bessie. Dear Frank ! {Hides her face on his shoulder.) 



52 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 

Frank. My darling ! And do yon accept all the conditions? 

Bessie. What conditions, Frank ? 

Frank. That we he married immediately, pet. I mnst have 
you mine beyond recall, ere my parents return. 

Bessie, if you insist, Frank— 

Frank. I do, most decidedly ! I never felt so glad at anything 
in my life, as I do at the prospect before us ! I always felt that 
"Love in a Cottage " was an enviable situation ; and now I will 
taste its sweets in reality ! Give me a kiss from those sweet lips, 
first (kisses her), and then go and get your wrappings ou. Thank 
goodness the minister's house is only five minutes' walk from 
here, and we are both of age, so no one can separate us. We will 
leave the table just as it is, and go right over there, for I am 
resolved not to touch a mouthful of dinner until you sit beside me 
as my wife. [Exit Frank and Bessie. 



SCENE Y.—The same. 
Enter Frank and Bessie in walking dress. 

Frank. Now, my darling, our fortunes are united. Heaven 
grant that I may be to you as good a husband as I feel assured 
you will be to me a wife. Now let me take off your things, and 
we will cat our wedding banquet. 

(Takes off her hat and" shawl, and lays them on a sofa. They 
seat themselves at the table. 

Frank. Bessie, is this Elysium, or actuallv this prosy planet, 
earth? 

Bessie (laughing). Actually this prosy planet earth, Frank ! 
The romance is all supplied by your own imagination ! Shall I 
pour you a cup of chocolate? 

Frank. Call it ambrosia, Bessie, and I'll take as many cups 
as you please ! 

Bessie. Anything to accommodate ! I've promised to love, 
honor and obey, you know, aud I must be as good as my word ! 
Do you like it pretty sweet ? 

Frank. Sweeten it with the nectar of your lips, you house- 
hold goddess, and it will be a draught fit for Jove himself. 

Bessie (laughing). Oh, Frank, don't, I beg ! I shall certainly 
die with laughing ! I assure you you will soon discover that you 
have married an altogether substantial and infallible mortal ! 
But really, Frank, we have serious subjects for contemplation. 
You forget that your parents are yet in ignorance of this move of 
ours ! 

Frank. I only know and care to know that I am the happiest 
man that lives ! (rising and leaning over her chair). Bessie, 
with my latest breath I will bless the day that brought us to- 



LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 53 

gether ! A sweeter, better wife a "king could not find— (bends and 
kisses her)— say, wifey, have I made you as happy as you have 
me? 

Bessie (archly). I guess so ! 

Frank (reproachfully). You only guess so ! Oh, Bessie ! 

Bessie (smiling). Well, then, I'll think the matter over, and 
let you know some day next week ! 

Frank (earnestly). Bessie, my precious, you promised to be 
my wife, and declared your willingness to wed me ; but you 
haven't told me in so many words, that you really love me ! I 
want to hear you say it just once ! 

Bessie (taking his hand). Well, then, dear Frank, I do love 
you dearly, and have done so for a much longer time than you 
are aware of ! 

Frank. My precious darling ! And you don't regret having 
taken me for better or worse ? 

Bessie. Look out that it doesn't turn out for worse, sir ! But 
seriously, Frank, I will tell you that you have made this the hap- 
piest day of my life, and that I feel confident that my happiness 
will increase with each day that passes over our heads ! 

Frank. And you have no fear that I shall change ? 

Bessie (earnestly). No, Frank ! I have watched you long and 
closely, and my trust and confidence in yoa is entire ! 
(A loud knock at the outer door.) 

— there ! your parents have returned ! The ordeal must be met, 
now ! 

Frank. Stay here, my love, and I will go and admit them, 
and break the news. Then when the first shock is past, I will 
call you, and your sweet face shall plead for itself ! 

[Exit Frank. A moment after Bessie 
rises and slips out after him. 

Ee-enter Frank with Mr. and Mrs. Barrons. 

Frank. Welcome, father and mother ! You are back early ! 

Mrs. Barrons. Yes ; we did not have to wait at the depot. 

Frank. Has my cousin Elizabeth returned with you ? 

Mrs. Barrons. She lingered behind in the garden to pick a 
spray of flowers to adorn her hair, for she laughingly said that 
she wished to look as irresistible in your eyes as possible. 

Frank. That will afford me the opportunity I desire, to make 
a disclosure to you. Father, mother, I have committed au act 
in your absence which I know will surprise you ; but which it 
you truly value my happiness you will not oppose or condemn 
me for. 

Mr. Barrons {with surjorise). What disclosures can you have 
to make, Frank ? You have surely been taking no dishonorable 
advantage of our absence ! Speak quick, and do not keep me in 
suspense ! 



54 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 

Frank. Nothiug dishonorable, father ! quiet your fears on that 
point, neither did 1 intend to take advantage of your absence. 
But the act which I have committed, and which I feel assured I 
shall never have occasion to be other than devoutly thankful for, 
is this : I have taken for my companion, for as long as life is 
granted to me, our sweet little Bessie. 

Mr. Barrons. The servant maid ! 

Frank. Father, you have yourself often made the remark that 
she was more like a daughter than a servant, and in everything 
else but her outward position, she is a true lady, and a fit wife 
for any gentleman. 

Mrs. Barrons. Frank, that is all mere infatuation! I must 
see Bessie and let her know how impossible it is that any en- 
gagement like this can be adhered to. She will have enough 
good sense to see the matter in its true light, even if you do not. 

Frank. It is too late for any retractions now, mother! We 
have been to the minister's and I have taken,4ier for my wife 
before witnesses. We are both of age, andr consequently the 
proceeding was perfectly legal. ^r 

Mrs. Barrons. Welt I might have expected just some such 
hairhrained conduct ! And now what can I sav to your cousin 
Elizabeth? 

Frank. Give yourself no uneasiness on that score, mother. 
I'll venture to assert that there is no love lost between us, and 
that my cousiu Elizabeth will be as well satisfied with the ar- 
rangement of affairs as I am. Indeed, now that the matter is 
settled beyond a doubt, I feel much more disposed to see her, 
and endeavor to make her visit a pleasant one, than I did at first. 
In fact, if our darling Bessie had not acceded to my earnest 
solicitation to become my wife immediately, I had made up my 
mind to run away ! 

Mrs. Barrons. Yes, that's about the way it works! Once 
let a young couple get in love, and everything else is forgotten 
and repudiated. But you may be premature in your opinion of 
your cousin's sentiments. I have often heard her express herself 
very warmly in reference to you ; and I had set my heart upon 
making her your wife. 

Frank {taking her hand). Mother, dear, forgive me for having 
disappointed you ; but I could never have been happy with 
one else thanrny precious little Bessie ; and I know you cannot 
help loving her. I would not wrong my cousin by offering her 
my hand without my heart ; and I feel sure now that the un- 
natural restraint is removed from us both, we shall be first-rate 
friends. 

Mr. Barrons. Yv"ell, you are both of you of age, and what 
you have done I have no power to undo. But you remember 
what I told you ; you have taken this step with a full knowledge 
of the consequences. Bid you inform Bessie of them ? 



LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 55 

Frank. I have told her everything, father ; and she has taken 
me for myself alone. Indeed, my wealth was the only obstacle 
that at first stood between ns, and threatened the destruction of 
all my happiness. 

Mr. Barrons. And what do yon intend to do, my impetuous 
young Benedict? Have you thought about that f 

Frank. You may be sure, father, I would not take such an 
important step, or involve my dear Bessie, without some calcu- 
lation ahead ; especially when the act throws me entirely upon 
my own resources. Our neighbor, Mr. Grant, was asking me 
only last week if I could recommend a bookkeeper to him. I 
shall apply myself for the situation ; we will purchase with the 
funds I already have in my own right a modest little home, and 
settle down to enjoy the delights of ''Love in a Cottage." So 
you see, father, I have looked ahead a little ; we are both young 
and strong, and. not afraid of work, and all we ask is your bless- 
ing and your good wishes. 

Mrs. Barrons. "Well, we'll waive the question for the present. 
I will call in your cousin Elizabeth, and we will see how she re- 
ceives the news. {Goes to door.) 

Elizabeth ! 

Elizabeth (from without). Coming, aunt ! 

Enter Elizabeth, veiled. 

Mrs. Barrons (talcing her hand). Lizzie, this is vour cousin, 
Frank ! 

Elizabeth. Yery happy to make your acquaintance, cousin 
Frank ! (throws aside her veil and extends her hand. Frank 
stares blankly at her.) 

Mrs. Barrons. Well ! that's an affectionate reception ! Can't 
you speak, Frank ? 

Frank. Father, mother, what does this mean ! what have you 
done ! 

Mr. Barrons. Done ? nothing ! It's you that have been doing 
it all ! 

Frank. And is it— can it be possible f That face and voice — 
tlie very ring I placed on herjinger ! Have I married — 

Bessie (laughing). Actually married that odious cousin Eliza- 
beth, Frank ! and there's no help for it now, unless you get a 
divorce ! 

Frank (raising his hand to his brow). Where am I? I cannot 
understand — 

Bessie. Allow me to introduce you to my attendants ! This 
(holding out one hand) is my French waiting maid ! this (extend- 
ing her left) my hair dresser ! do you think "you can stand the 
expense ? 

Mrs. Barrons. Bessie, is it really true that Frank has mar- 
ried you ? 



56 LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 

Bessie. Really true, aunt ! I have witnesses to prove that he 
has promised to love, honor and cherish the very individual for 
whom half an hour ago he assured me in the most serious man- 
ner possible he had not the slightest spark of affection ! Con- 
sistent, wasn't it V 

Frank. But I thought— 

Bessie. Now you are brought face to face with that identical 
cousin Elizabeth, do you find her so exceedingly distasteful to 
you, Frank? Do you wish to get a divorce, and free yourself 
from the dreaded connection ? 

Mrs. Barrons. He has assured me, Bessie, that since there is 
no possible chance of your being his wile, he feels much more in- 
clined to receive you hospitably. 

Bessie (courtesying). Much obliged, I'm sure, for your gal- 
lantry, cousin Frank ! 

Frank (catching her in his arms). Divorce, indeed, you little 
witch ! Cousin or no cousin, you're mine, and I'll hold you fast ! 
And now tell me, you naughty provoking little darling, what all 
this means? My heart is in a complete whirl, aud I shall not feel 
sure that I actually possess you until you explain this mystery ! 

Mrs. Barrons (laughing). Yes, do take pity on him, Bessie! 
for he looks as if he had lost his seven senses. 

Frank. Not quite, mother ! I am conscious that my arms em- 
brace the being I love best in the whole world ! This is really 
you, Bessie ! my darling ! my wife ! 

Bessie. This is really me, Frank. 

Frank. And my cousin ? — 
r Bessie. And your cousin ! wife and cousin both in one, dear 
Frank — husband ! •, 

Frank. My darling! I'll believe that voice anywhere! j\nd 
now (leading her to a seat), explain yourself, Mrs. Barrons, with- 
out delay ! 

Bessie. "Well then, Frank, let me tell you that I was at first 
as much opposed to this match as you bave been ; then, thinking 
it hardly fair to condemn you untried, and deeming an incognito 
the most effective way to accomplish my purpose, engaged with 
aunt as a servant. She did not discover my identity until I had 
been here over a fortnight ; then, seeing that you had already 
become interested in me, promised to keep my secret ; and be- 
tween us we carried out the plan which has to-day culminated so 
happily for us all. 

Mr. Barrons. So you see, Frank, our words to you this morn- 
ing were true after all, and you have married your cousin, 
although rather sooner than we expected. 

Mrs. Barrons. And consequently there is no necessity for us 
to disinherit you ! 

Bessie. Have I offended you past forgiveness, Frank? I 
could not resist the temptation to learn for myself the character 



TRIP TO BLANKVELLE. 57 

of the man to "whom my parents had, as it were, consigned me. 
I had formed, before I saw you, quite as uncomplimentary opin- 
ion as you had of me ; and your readiness to renounce every 
worldly advantage rather than give me up, convinced me of the 
sincerity of your affection. When you letfc me, to admit your 
parents, I slipped up stairs, changed my dress, and then waited 
until aunt called me. And now that your little Bessie and ex- 
tremely obnoxious cousin Elizabeth are'one and the same person, 
is she less desirable in your eyes ? 

Frank {embracing her). Not less, but a thousand times more, 
darling ! Father, mother, I thank you for this ; for leaving us in 
freedom to act out the unbiased impulses of our hearts. 

Mr. Barrons. We have had a mutual surprise to-day ! And 
your resolution to stand true to your love, and sacrifice for it all 
worldly ambition, does you credit, Frank! God bless you, my 
children ! the dearest wish of my heart is fulfilled ! Bessie, 
daughter, accept my love and warmest congratulations {hissing 
her), and although he is my own son, I can say from the bottom 
of my heart, that you could not have a better husband ! 

Bessie. I have already convinced myself on that point, uncle ! 

Mrs. Barrons. My congratulations, too, pet ! Frank, you 
have chosen well ! My blessing upon you both ! 

Mr. Barrons. But, wife, matters are not going to pass off in 
this quiet way ! I will make this marriage public to-morrow, 
and we must give the young folks a party. And then, Frank, I 
will make you, as I always intended doing, a present of the villa 
I built last summer, and you and Bessie shall live there when 
you get tired of us. 

Frank. That will never be, then. But we will occupy it a 
portion of every Summer. And, moreover, our honeymoon 
shall be passed in testing the pleasures and comforts of " Love in 
a Cottage!" 

CURTAIN. 



A TRIP TO BLANKVILLE. 

A MONOLOGUE. 
BY AN ABSENT-MINDED EXCURSIONIST— WHO ENTERS HURRIEDLY. 



Tour pardon, gentle folks all— I fear I am rather late. I have 
this moment got back from an excursion — a delightful trip that 
I have just made. 

Picture to yourselves, my friends, a village — no — a town— 
quite a town, situated on the railroad about one— two — was it 
three If Three hours' distance from here? — Upon my word, I 



58 A TRIP TO BLANKVILLE. 

don't know exactly how far it may be— I entirely forgot to note 
the time when I started from there and arrived here— for I was 
asleep most of the way. Oh— well- it doesn't matter — My prim- 
ary object iu going there was business— some business connected 
with — with— {thinks). Oh, never mind, it's none of your bus- 
iness anyhow. Well — 1 took my little gripsack with me— I 
thought first of taking a small valise, but you know I should 
have put that under the seat in the car, and sure to have left it 
there— I'm so forgetful— but a gripsack— that's different— I al- 
ways keep my gripsack in my hand — never let go of it — when 1 
get on the car— while I'm on the car, and when I get off- it's 
there, you see. (Looks amazed, first at his empty hand, then at 
audience)— Why ! where is it? Such a thing never happened to 
me in my life before. Surely I must have left it in the car —or 
perhaps in the stage just now— Oh — I'll hunt it up presently — 
must find it easy enough— a gripsack made of leather— no— can- 
vas— one or the other— dear me! which was it? I suppose I'll 
find it at the railroad depot, left and unclaimed— I think it was 
the Great Northern Railway— or was it the Southwestern ?— Now 
I come to think of it, perhaps it was the Central— oh, dear— I 
wonder which it was — but it's easy to find out— it's where there's 
an awful crowd of carnages and wagons— awful hard to get 
across the street there— absolutely dangerous — it was all I could 
do to get through them— never thought' of what street it was — oh 
— I'll recollect it after a while. Dreadful annoying, though, to 
have left that gripsack ! — 

Well, I got on the cars— wonder which cars they were — I'll 
recollect after a while — and we started. It's awful pretty along 
that line —and 1 suppose it was just as nice the whole way, but I 
fell asleep after passing the first station— that was — that was — 
dear me — something " burgh" — oh! I'll know the name in mo- 
ment when I see it — ah ! to be sure — that will show which rail- 
way 1 was on. 

Next time you take a trip you must go there— I had a splendid 
time -I was asleep— but I could hear the conductor call out the 
names of the stations where we stopped — always something ville, 
or burgh or town. I never can recollect names — but I was going 
to — to — I'll tell you in a moment — it's just on the tip of my 
tongue— Mam — Mim — oh, pshaw ! — Pretty place— I woke up- 
got off the cars— oh, you ought to go there— prettiest place you 
every saw. The station — to be sure the station was like most 
stations — but real neat — sort of shed, open on one side— painted 
light brown— no — was it? pale green?— anyhow, painted — hung 
inside with show-bills, time-tables — red, blue, yellow— quite pic- 
turesque. 

At the station I got on a stage to the town which was a little 
distance off. I took particular notice of the country as the stage 
rolled along — perfectly picturesque — so green— on the right, fields 



A TBIP TO BLANKVILLE. 59 

of— of — well, I'm not farmer enough to know exactly — say, tur- 
nips— you meet people sometimes who'll tell you "that's wheat 
— that's potatoes " — and so on — but I never can tell the difference. 
I think on the right hand they must have been turnip fields — then 
on the other side there were more fields — looked like turnips, too, 
but so picturesque. If you want to see turnip-fields— were they 
turnips" I wonder ?— anyhow, if you want to see them, whatever 
they were, in perfectiou, you must take a ride in that stage. 
"Well, after a while, we got to the town — drew up at the principal 
hotel— the G-olden Sun ? — no — the Golden Lion ? no— oh, dear — 
it was the G-olden something — 

There's another hotel right opposite — upon my word — I think 
it was Golden something, too— but don't go there— go to the one 
I went to. — They showed me into a private room, number 7 ?— 
no— 3 — no— it was an odd number anyhow— very nice and clean 
and airy— be sure to ask for that room — they'll know — the cham- 
bermaid was so attentive— fine eyes— black ?— blue?— I don't 
know— but I never can recollect how people look— I only know 
when they are attentive— bother the rest— Well— I opened the 
window and looked out —the room faces the public square —and 
nearly opposite I saw a handsome billiard room— I went down 
stairs— and — oh! it just occurs to me — I wonder whether I left 
my gripsack there —What a bother it is that I left that gripsack 
somewhere— I must go and hunt it up —presently — I went down 
stairs, and crossed over to the billiard room. Everybody was 
there —some of them looking quite well-to-do. The nicest billiard 
room I ever saw — oh —you must sro there. Some of them were 
talking about horses — cattle— wheat— all sorts of things — they 
all seemel to know each other. — Soon I heard the dinner-bell 
ring at the hotel — so I went over and sat down to the table. 
Plenty of guests— some of them from — from — you know — the 
county town right near there —capital dinner — I forgot exactly 
what we had — but it was first rate — conversation was free— I 
forget what the conversation was — but I recollect I was talking 
with a man sitting right opposite me — about— about— I forget 
what it was about — makes no difference— but his opiuion differed 
from mine— about something— and it was just getting lively and 
interesting— I think he shook his fist at me— but the stage-horn 
sounded and I had to hurry to get away. I had eaten in too 
great a hurry, and — would you believe it? — I got so weary that 
I went to sleap, and slept almost the whole distance back— It 
was a perfectly charming trip ! — (looks at his watch). Ah ! ex- 
actly half-past — half-past something — I haven't the least idea 
what— you see— my watch — oh ! it keeps excellent time— but I've 
lost the hour-hand — and I can tell exactly how many minutes 
o'clock it is, but not the horn* of the day — makes no difference — 
if it's half-past, it's time for me to hunt up that gripsack — But 
which depot shall I go to ? Ah ! I'll get hold of a cab driver — 



60 UNEXPECTED COMPANY. 

he'll tell me — if I treat him — {searches his pockets)— Pocket-bock 
— where's my pocket-book ? I suppose 1 must have put it in my 
gripsack, I'm sure I did — well— I'm glad I know where it is — 
By the way— if any of you should lind or hear of a gripsack, I 
know it was either leather or canvas— think it some brass-headed 
nails — no — nickel-plated — I forget — it doesn't matter, you would 
know it in a moment if you saw it. — If you should — please drop 
me a line — number — number— oh ! never mind the number — 
everybody knows me round there — and be sure to put the first 
name— because there's another man — same name— nearly oppo- 
site me — but, anyhow, I'm sure to get it. — Please don't forget — 
can't wait, I must be off— to hunt up that gripsack. 

[Exit hurriedly. 



UNEXPECTED COMPANY; 

OR, 

THE COUSIN FROM OMAHA. 

AN EXHIBITION DIALOGUE. 



Lucille, \ * tsters - 

Julius, Cousin to the two Sisters 



CHAR A CTEBS. 

Expressman. 



SCENE I. — Home apartment. Mattie seated sewing, with cut- 
tings and clippings about the floor. As the cm-fain rises, 
Mattie must seem deeply engrossed in the work of making 
a new dress out of an old one. 

Mattie (tosses head impatiently —tries to ft two parts of dress 
together — despairingly). 0, dear! I'm afraid I can never make 
anything presentable out of this old dress. Plague take poverty ! 
I say. (Snaps a thread — lets scissors and spool drop. ) 

Enter Lucille. 

Lucille (excitedly). What are we to do, Mattie ? I am wor- 
ried out of my life — think of it ! We have company — 

Mattie. Company ! (Rolls up her eyes as if to invoke some 
power above.) Who is such a lunatic as to visit us— We are not 



UNEXPECTED COMPANY. 61 

able to entertain. {Resumes sewing.) You must be mistaken. 

Lucille. Mattie ! Mattie ! Put that dress away. We must 
contrive a dinner of some description ; and this, loo, as soon as 
possible. 

Mattie. I won't— I must finish this dress. I have nothing to 
wear this evening to the concert. If we were not so poor I could 
order a dress easily from the city in time, but this is not to be 
thought of. 

Lucille. Concert or no concert, we are bound to scrape to- 
gether a decent meal ; don't interrupt me. Remember it is our 
cousin from Omaha. 

Mattie {excitedly). 0! bother our cousin from Omaha. 
(Gathers pieces of dress, preparatory to laying aside work.) 
What business have cousins from Omaha to come foisting them- 
selves upon people without a word of warning in this way? 
People, too, who are utter strangers, I dare say he is a great 
awkward lout with red hair and freckled face {noise outside). 
What's that? 

Lucille. The cat, I suppose — Please, Mat — 

Mattie {interrupts as she gazes out). jSo, it is not the cat. 
I'll warrant it is our cousin from Omaha ! 

Lucille. How is it possible ? I left him looking at the honey- 
suckles on the front porch. 

Mattie [decisively). But I tell you I saw his coat-tails as he 
disappeared round the corner. 

Lucille. Tut! It's your imagination, or rather, guilty con- 
science ; for you know you should not talk in such a silly 'strain. 

Mattie [continues to roll up icork). It is not silly to speak the 
truth. You know if I stop work on this dress' a half hour, I 
can't go to the concert. I hate cousins from Omaha ! 

Lucille {takes pocketbook from pocket). See here, Mattie, 
{counts pieces of silver) I have only this dollar in change — You 
must run out with the covered basket and buy a pound and a 
half of beef steak — a quart of sweet potatoes — a half pound of 
coffee— the best Java, fresh ground ; and stop at Mrs. Smith's 
for a pint of milk and half dozen eggs. I can soon stir up a cus- 
tard for dessert, and be certain to make haste — (Mattie places 
dress in work basket, prepares to go out, holds out her hand for 
money). Fly, now ! {Mattie turns change over in her hand.) 

Mattie. This money, Lucille, was to buy ribbons for my 
dress — 

Lucille. I know, my dear; we can do without ribbons, but 
we cannot treat company amiss. 

Mattie (still looks over money). I hate company! and I know 
I'll scream out when I see that Western backwoodsman eating up 
my ribbon loops in the shape of custard, and swallowing my 
dress trimmings in his coffee. 

Lucille. Please go, Mattie — it is growing late {entreatingly). 



62 UNEXPECTED COMPANY. 

Mattie {arranges her hat). All right ! if I must— Shall I get 
Java, Lucille? Kio is good enough for us. 

Lucille. No ! no ! get the best, and do hurry — 

Mattie. My dress will not be lit to be seen without the car- 
dinal loops— and as to the crepe frills I — 

Lucille (interrupts). For goodness sake stop croaking, and 
bring the things in time for me to have dinner ready — 

Mattie. I am not croaking, and I'll leave it to any one to de- 
cide if it is fair for this double-fisted, raw-boned fellow to come 
here and eat— 

Lucille (interrupts ; starts toward Mattie, pushes her 
gently to entrance, while Mattie looks over her shoulder and 
playfully resists). 

Mattie. I am going, Lucille, as fast as my feet will carry me 
— but I hate cousins from Omaha ! 

[Exeunt Lucille and Mattie, r. 

Enter Julius, l. 

Julius (steps cautiously and looks after Lucille and Mattie). 
A pretty fix for a fellow to find himself in, to bo sure ! I don't 
think they suspected my proximity. Two very charming girls. 
The younger one reminds me of a tiger lily blossom, so beautiful 
and spicy. — I rather like the way she expresses herself— I was 
told before I ventured to visit the Misses Carver that they were 
as "poor as dirt" and " proud as Lucifers " — (pauses a second 
loilh the head of his cane against his chin). I must find some 
way to ingratiate myself in my cousin Mattie's good graces and 
atone for demolishing her cardinal ribbons and crepe frills — 
(pauses a second, snaps his thumb and finger). I have it ! The 
very thing ! but I must hasten, or it will be too late to carry out 
my plans. It was well I ordered the box before leaving the city. 
I had no idea of striking the nail so precisely on the head (looks 
out). Lucille is returning ; it will never do for her to see me 
here — I must elude her for the present. 

[Exits l as Lucille enters r. 

Lucille (looks around expecting to see Julius). I was sure I 
would find him there. "Where can he have hidden himself. He 
accepted my invitation to remain to dinner, but he knows our 
circumstances and that we are not able to keep a servant. I 
suppose his good sense suggested the propriety of amusing him- 
self for a while at least. He is doubtless in our little flower 
garden. 1 hope he is, as he will see we have some idea of refine- 
ment—but I must hurry— (puts finger to forehead). Let me 
see ! "What shall I do first ? I can set the table while I am 
waiting for Mattie. What detains her; I wonder ? (draws table 
to centre of stage, spreads white cloth over it— places plates, 
goblets, etc., for three.) (The girl who personates Lucille 
should sing well, and while she performs her task can entertain 



UNEXPECTED COMPANY. 63 

audience by singing some popular air. A good actress could 
make this scene very effective. WJien Lucille has arranged 
table she seats herself, with a rag and some whitening begins to 
clean small table castor or spoons.) 

Enter Mattie with basket. 

if attie (sets basket down). Where is lie ? 

Lucille (reproachfully). You have been gone an endless time. 
II is past noon. What time shall we have dinner, do you sup- 
pose V 

Mattie. I know it's late, but I can't help it. I had to wait 
for the coffee to be ground, and it took them I don't know how 
long to get the milk — and, oh, Lucille! I met the handsomest 
fellow as I crossed the park. He wore diamond studs, and 
picked up my scarf— yon know I am forever dropping the thing. 

Lucille. He wears diamond studs. 

Mattie. Who? 

Lucille. Why, the cousin from Omaha. 

Mattie. Oh, he isn't that sort of person. The man I saw had 
lovely almond-shaped eyes and a long silky mustache. 

Lucille (rises from seat, puts castor on table). Do stop rat- 
tling, Mattie, and help me ; it is very late. You can wash the 
pota — 

Enter Dave, bearing a waiter loaded with tempting looking 
viands. Bests waiter at one end of table. 

Dave. Sarvant. ladies (bows). 

Lucille (amazed). What does this mean? (to Dave). You 

have made a mistake. We never — 

Dave (interrupts). Begs pardin, marm — I was tole to fotch 

dis here lunch to Miss Carver'ses cottige an' dis is de place fur 

sho' (looks about stage). 
Mattie (spiritedly). See here, boy — we — 
Lucille (interrupts). Let me question him — (*oDave). What 

is your name ? 

(Removes dishes from waiter to table.) 
Dave. David, at your sarvice ; but dey calls me Dave, for 

short. 
Lucille. Well, David, who sent you to this house * 
Dave. Til 'splain to you, Misses, de bess I ken — Marse Alex — 

what keeps de St. Jeems hotel — gives de orda to de steward an' 

den he puts all dese dishes on dis waiter an' say to me : " Dave, 

you carry dis down to Miss Carver'ses cottige — an' here I is. 

Dat's all I knows. 
Lucille (puzzled). There must be a mistake — 
Dave i interrupts). Xo'm — I clar dey ain't no — 
Mattie (interrupts). Did you hear any one tell Mr. Alex to — 
Dave (interrupts). I'se done tole you, Misses, I never hearn 



64 UNEXPECTED COMPANY. 

nobody tell nobody nothin'. De steward bo done jess what de 
boss tells biiu, an' den be say, " Dave, you take dis lunch down 
to Miss Carver'ses an' — 

Lucille (to Dave). Stand aside, (begins to return dishes to 
waiter. Dave grimaces and expresses his chagrin in panto- 
mime.) 

Mattie (aside). I only wish it had been sent to us. (to Lu- 
cille). Had yon not better wait till — 

Lucille (impatiently). "Wait till what? No, I shall not wait. 
You know, Mattie, that no one we know would send a lunch 
like this to us — 

Dave (after gesticulating in opposition to Lucille). I doan' 
want to diiate to a young lady like you is, Misses, 'kase 'taint my 
zervatory to 'vise white folkes — but sho' as you is standin' on 
dem two feet dat 'ar lunch was sont to dis va' house, en' ef you 
sen' it back den Marse Alex gwine ter blow de top ob my hade 
off, kaseihs don' 'llow none of de waiters to eoutiy him — white 
ner black, 'sides de flow'ars '11 be here to-rcc'ly. 

Lucille and Mattie (simultaneously). Flowers ? 

Dave. Yes 'm— dem what grows in de hot house en' kos' 
money— (looks out). Dar dey is now — 

Enter John, bearing a vase of flowers. 

Joitn (makes obeisance to Lucille and Mattie, ivallcs up to 
table, places the flowers near the centre, and hurriedly exits). 

Mattie (puts hand to head). I feel like I am dreaming, or in 
fairy land — What does it all mean ? 

Lucille (decidedly). It means that I am not going to be made 
the subject of a miserable hoax. 

Mattie (aside). A very agreeable hoax, I should say — 

Lucille (to Dave). Gather up those things, and the sooner 
you leave here with them the better. Our cousin from Omaha 
will be here presently, and he will teach yo — 

Enter Julius. 

Mattie (aside). The very fellow I met in the park ! 

Julius. T am here, my dear cousin. Can I serve you ? (looJcs 
at table). Upon my word (looks at Mattie), you must live like 
aldermen here. 

Lucille (almost gaspina). But this is not our dinner ! (aside). 
He'd know I am speaking the truth if could see in that basket— 

Julius. Whose dinner is it then? 

Lucille. Tt is some mistake. 

Julius (smiles). A very tempting mistake, and I move we 
avail ourselves of it. (to Dave). Boy, whose dinner is this? 

Dave. ! T-t ain't no dinner, sah ! " It's lunch what was sent to 
Miss Carver'ses fum de St. Gicins— an' 



UNEXPECTED COMPANY. 65 

Julius. Never mind !— that's sufficient (looks alternately at 
Lucille and Mattie). Shall we eat ? 

Mattie. Will you be our guest ? 

Julius. I cannot refuse, {to Lucille). Come, cousin, it is 
useless to worry over why's and wherefore's; my motto is, 
" Take all in sight." (Julius and Mattie take seats at table. 
To Lucille). Here is a place for you, Come ! (points to opposite 
chair). 

Lucille (accepts the seat in a bewildered air). I do not under- 
stand ; and, like Mattie, I feel as if it is a dream — 

Mattie, What beautiful flowers — 

Julius. Excuse me, coz, I am thinking just now more of the 
substantials. (to Dave). Boy, pass the bread— (Dave hands 
dishes with the airs of a Saratoga waiter). 

Lucille. If the dream does not vanish, Mattie, you can wear 
that rose in your hair to the concert. 

Mattie. You forget, Lucille, I have given up the concert. 

Julius (starts). Not on my account, I hope ? (knock on door) 
(to Dave). Go to the door — 

Dave. Ya'as, sir !— (Dave starts to entrance; all look after 
him. He returns instantly followed by express messenger bear- 
ing a large pasteboard box ; takes it to Lucille). 

Lucille (reads address). Misses Lucille and Mattie Carver. 

Mattie (jumps up from table). What can it be? 

Lucille. You'll never know if you don't open it and see. 
Ilora ! I'll cut the cord. (Cuts strings). 

(Julius and Mattie draw close to Lucille as she lifts the 
cover.) 

Mattie (claps hands). An elegant cherry-colored silk ! (catches 
at card fastened to dress, reads): "For Miss Mattie Carver." 

Julius. And just beneath it a navy blue for Miss Lucille. 

Mattie (turns to Julius, raises finger). How do you know 
this? 0! I've fouud you out, cousin Julius— I've found you 
out ! 

Julius. Found me out ! am I so like a conundrum? 

Mattie. It was you sent this dress to me, and — 

Julius (interrupts). Because I knew you'd look like a princess 
in it— eh, cousin? 

Mattie (vexed). And it was you sent that dinner (points to 
table). 

Julius. Do you suppose I wanted to eat up your ribbon loops 
— and swallow your crepe frills ? 

Mattie (impetuously). I'll never speak to you again! (re- 
cedes). 

Julius (approaches Mattie). By the heaven above us you 
shall ! (takes her hand, leads her to front, while all form tab- 
leaux), and furthermore, some day you shall tell me you will 
learn to love me and then promise to go to the West with me my 



60 



A SLIGHT MISUNDEESTANDING. 



cherished bride— (Mattie turns away her head). Don't turn 
away your rosebud face, Mattie— I loved you at first sight, and 
my life will be only half a life unless Von share it with me. 
(Draws Mattie's hand within his arm. She hides her fare.) 

Lucille (aside). And all this comes from unexpected com- 
pany -{(<> Mattie). Why, Mattie, I thought you said— yes, 
vowed- that you hated cousins from Omaha — 

Mattie (shyly tools up at Julius). So I did— but— but— then 
—I've changed my mind. 

CURTAIN. 



A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. 

A COMEDIETTA. 



CHABA CTEBS. 

Mrs. Moore. Mr. Marsh. 

Alice Moore. Mr. Saunders. 

Nettie Moore. 



SCENE L — A sitting-room. Alice and Nettie engaged in 
sewing. 

Enter Mrs. Moore. 

Mrs. Moobe. Girls ! girls ! what do yon suppose has hap- 
pened ? 

Alice. What, mother, what? anybody married? 

Nettie. Anybody been making love to Widow Green ? 

Mrs. Moore. Oh, pshaw ! hush ! you'd never guess it in the 
world ! 

Nettie. Then don't impose such an impossible task upon our 
speculative powers, mamma, that's a good creature ! but en- 
lighten us at once ! 

Mrs. Moore. Well, hold your breath, now, and prepare to be 
more astonished than you've been yet ! The house on the Hill is 
taken ! 

Alice. What ! Locust Grove ? 

Mrs. Moore. Yes— Locust Grove! after standing empty for 
three years, until we thought it was going to be left to fall to 
decay. I conld hardly believe my eyes when I drove past it jnst 



SUGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. 67 

now on my way home, to see the windows all open, and servants 
bustling in and out ; while two or three gardeners have been set to 
work upon the grounds already . But I have better news yet, even. 

Alice. Better news? oh, delightful ! let's hear it, right away ! 

Mrs. Moore {laughing). Well, I'll enlighten you by propound- 
ing another conundrum. Who do you suppose it is that has got 
Locust Grove ? 

Alice. I never could tell in the world !— who ? 

Nettie. Mamma, our curiosity is strung up to the very last 
verge of mortal endurance ! do solve your mysterious riddle at 
once, and end this agonizing suspense ! 

Mrs. Moore. Nettie, you're always spoiling everything with 
your officious remarks ! do be quiet and let me finish what I was 
sa3'ing. 

Alice. Oh, never mind her, mother ! we all know that her 
attempts at sarcasm don't amount to anything. "Who is it that 
has got Locust Grove ? 

Mrs. Moore. "Well you remember that Mr. Bates that we 
met incidentally at Saratoga, summer before last, just as we 
were coming away — the one who drove such a splendid team, 
and wore those magnificent diamond studs, you know — well, he's 
bought the place and come here to live, with his stepson and 
nephew. 

Alice. To live ! oh, delightful ! and with the young gentle- 
men besides ! there's a chance for you and me, Nettie. 

Nettie. So I perceive. Which d.o you intend to pay court to 
first, mamma — the splendid team or the diamond studs? 

Mrs. Moore. Don't you be impertinent, Nettie ! you may 
thank your stars for such rare good fortune coming to us in this 
quiet place. Mr. Bates is a widower, and both the young men 
single; so I'd like to know if two young girls can ask for better 
advantages than that ? 

Nettie, a widower ! well, I never ! there's a chance for us all 
three, then ! I expect mamma will be looking up all her smart- 
est caps and ribbons. — But, unfortunately for us, we don't happen 
to be the only young ladies in the town — and we are no doubt 
liable to have competitors who will realize quite as sensibly the 
advantages to be derived by such a windfall as this — so I don't 
see but we had better have a notice issued warning all intruders 
from trespassing upon our expectations in this respect. 

Alice. Oh, Nettie, do take breath, and leave me a chance to 
get in a word ! it's absolutely tiresome to hear you rattle on in 
this way ! Where did you gain all this information, mamma. 

Mrs. Moore. Mrs. Norton was the first one who told me, and 
then the news was corroborated at Deacon Grey's. They must 
have had their goods all sent up last evening, and then come up 
themselves on the early morning train. But, oh ! there was one 
thing I came near forgetting ! 



68 A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. 

Nettie. "What! more mystery? more disclosures? why, I 
declare, mamma, its almost as good as the "Arabian Nights" 
entertainments ! 

Mrs. Moore (laughing). Nettie, you are too provoking! you 
don't afford the slightest foundation for one to build any ambi- 
tious hopes or expectations upon ! 

Nettie. I'm afraid not, mamma ! even if you succeeded in 
getting them poised upon my head, I fear they would present an 
aspect something like the tower of Pisa — they might perhaps be 
realized, but the prospect would be rather unsteady. 

Mrs. Moore. Well, what I wanted to say was, that the son, 
or stepson, rather, is of course the heir to all the property — but 
the nephew, I understand, is quite without fortune or expecta- 
tions. He is a fine young man, though, they say, and quite 
desirable in himself as a match, and I suppose he has enough for 
one to get along comfortably upon. So you and Alice can de- 
cide which one you will choose as the victim of your fascinations. 

Alice. It is a matter that can be very easily decided, mother. 
I, of course, as the oldest daughter, shall expect to receive the 
addresses of the heir, and Nettie, who is less aristocratic in her 
views, can take the nephew. 

Nettie. Thank you, my dear! and now the next important 
consideration is, whether the nephew will be disposed to take 
me. This husband hunting is a most awfully serious matter, 
mother ! 

Mrs. Moore. Nettie, do be sensible for once, and look at the 
matter in its proper light. I hurried home as fast as I could to 
tell you, after I had received the news ; and to suggest that you 
both dress yourselves and take a walk past there this afternoon. 
That may give you an opportunity to see Mr. Bates and renew 
your acquaintance, and he will probably invite you to go in and 
play croquet with his son and nephew; they were mowing and 
rolling a plot of ground for that purpose, undoubtedly, as I came 
by. You had better both go, or else it might look as though you 
were running after them. 

Nettie. 1 think it will look pretty much like it as it is, 
mother ! We might at least wait a dav or two, until they may 
be disposed to be settled, and then all of us make a friendly call, 
as it is our privilege to do to all new comers. 

Alice. And by our delay just afford some one else the chance 
of stepping in ahead of us and spoiling all our prospects ! No, 
indeed ! I shall do as mamma suggests, by all means. 

Nettie. "Well, since I suppose annihilation is to be preferred 
to the terrible disgrace of becoming an old maid, I shall have to 
follow suit. 

_ Mrs. Moore. Certainly ; so don't waste any more precious 
time, but go and put on your most becoming dresses, and saunter 
carelessly past, as I have said— just as if it was by accident, you 



A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. 69 

know ; only keep your eyes about you and be ready to improve 
any opportunity that may present itself. Remember I shall be 
very much disappointed if you come back without having spoken 
to some of them, at least. 

Nettie. If the case should appear a desperate one, mamma, 
don't yon think it would be a good idea for one of us to fall down 
just outside the grounds, and try the effect of a fainting fit ? 

Mrs. Moore. Hold your saucy tongue, before I am tempted to 
bos your ears ! I trust to your sister to have sufficient tact to 
successfully accomplish her errand. 

Nettie {laughing. ) So do I ; so in the slightly altered lan- 
guage of the "Noble Indian," I will say, '-'Ho ! for the happy 
husband-hunting grounds ! " 

Mrs. Moore. Off to your room, you incorrigible minx ! 

Nettie. Au revoir, mamma ! come Alice ! whoever gets 
dressed first has the first choice of a beau ! [ Exeunt. 



SCENE II.— A country path. 
Enter ^Ilice and Nettie. 

Alice. Just stop a moment, Nettie, and take a look at the 
house from here ! Isn't it a grand old pile ? 

Nettie. It is, indeed ! I have always admired it. 

Alice. And it has always been my secret ambition to be mis- 
tress of it some day. Won't I carry my head high, though, when 
the time does come ? 

Nettie {laughing). Don't toss your head too soon or too dis- 
dainfully, Alice, or your pitcher of milk may come tumbling 
down, and demolish all your fine prospects. 

Alice. No danger of that ! my pitcher is perfectly secure, 
thank you ! Mark my words, Nettie Moore, if I'm not in posses- 
sion of that mansion, before I am a year older! 

Nettie. And in that case, what is to become of my equally 
worthy, but less pecuniarily favored suitor, and my humble self? 
Are we to be turned incontinently out of doors ? 

Alice. Oh, no ! I'll apportion you a suite of rooms, until you 
are able to set up an independent establishment ! But hush, 
Nettie, there's someone coming ; I can see two forms through 
the trees ! it's they, as sure as you live ! and they're coming this 
way, too ! isn't that splendid? 

Nettie (roguishly). Superlatively magnificent ! 

Alice (angrily). Oh hush ! if they should hear you, and sus- 
pect that we were laughing at them, we might say good-bye to all 
our fine expectations ! Here they are ! 

Enter Marsh and Saunders. 

Marsh. As I was saying, Saunders, when the improvements 



70 A SLIGHT MISUXDK U.STAN DING. 

are all completed, it will be about as fine a place as there is in 
the county. 

Alice {catching Nettie's arm). There, that is the heir— the 
best looking one do you see ? 

Nettie. I rather think the other one has the best claim to good 
looks ! 

Alice. Oh pshaw ! you've no taste at all ! but let us go for- 
ward where they can see us. 

Alice and Nettie advance. 

Saunders. Ah ! good afternoon, ladies ! Can you direct us to 
the "Old Mill," which I understand is somewhere in this vicin- 
ity. 

Alice {to Nettie). The very thing, Nettie. (Aloud.) Yes, sir; 
we were just going in that direction, in fact. 

Marsh. Indeed ! and would you deem it presumptuous in us 
if we asked permission to accompany you ? We are destined to be 
neighbors, at any rate, and if our acquaintance is a little uncon- 
ventional, you will not be offended, I hope ? 

Alice. Oh no ! are you the new comers at the house on the 
hill? 

Marsh. "We are, at your service. Let me introduce myself as 
Mr. Marsh. 

Alice. Mamma and I can claim a slight acquaintance with 
your stepfather, Mr. Marsh ! we met Mr. Bates last Summer at 
Saratoga. (Marsh and Saunders exchange glances.) 

Marsh. Ah yes ! I have heard him mention you ; and I am 
very glad to renew the acquaintance. Let me present my cousin, 
Mr. Saunders. 

Alice {bowing). Good afternoon, sir! 

Nettie (aside to Alice). You needn't 'be quite so stiff, Alice ! 
(Aloud.) I am very happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. 
Saunders ! 

Saunders. Thank you ! Mr. Bates will be very much pleased 
to find that he has friends so near, as we are quite strangers in 
this locality. 

Alice (ii)ith animation). I really envy you the beautiful home 
you are destined to have, Mr. Marsh. It has been a favorite pas- 
time of mine to wander through the ground* while it was vacant. 

Marsh. And allow me to hope that the fact of its being occu- 
pied may not deter you from a continuance of your pastime, Miss 
Moore. There is an aunt of ours staying with'us for awhile, and 
I know she would be delighted to see you. And you, Mis* Moore 
{turning to Nettie), do you share your sister's penchant for 
rambling? 

Nettie. Oh yes ; I am well acquainted with the outside of that 
romantic looking house, Mr. Marsh ! I should think a view from 
the cupola of the country around would be delightful. 



A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. 71 

Marsh. And so it is ; so I hope you may be able to testify 
from personal experience, belong long. 

Alice. Thank you, Mr. Marsh! Nettie and I shall do our- 
selves the pleasure of accepting your kind invitation, very shortly. 
(Aside to Nettie.) Nettie, you're not to attempt to attract Mr. 
Marsh's attention ! I want you to understand that I consider 
him my especial property. 

Nettie {aside to Alice). Dear me, Alice, you may look at my 
beau as much as you please, and I will promise not to be jealous ! 

Alice (aside to Nettie). Oh well, you needn't put on airs ! 
He isn't worth any money and Mr. Marsh is. 

Saunders. Well ladies shall we set out on our visit to the old 
mill? 

Alice (to Marsh). "What did you say, Mr. Marsh ¥ is this the 
best road to the mill? yes, it is/by all means ! and we will start 
right away if you please. 

Saunders. Shall I have the pleasure of escorting you, Miss 
Nettie f 

Nettie (laughing). There doesn't appear to be any choice; 
since Alice has taken the lead with Mr. Marsh. But frankly I 
shall be very well pleased with your company, Mr. Saunders. 

Saunders. Thank you ! we will follow on, then, without 
delay. [Exeunt. 



SCENE HI.— Same as first. 
Enter Alice and Nettie. 

Alice {throioing herself on sofa). Whoever says that I don't 
know how to play my cards well, don't understand what they are 
talking about, that is all ! I consider my position as mistress of 
Locust Grove fairly secured. 

Nettie. Mr. Marsh seems to be quite devoted, that is true; 
but I don't think you need treat Mr. Saunders so cavalierly, 
Alice ! he is quite as much of a gentleman, if he hasn't so much, 
money — and you have been positively rude to him, at times. 

Alice. Then he shouldn't have had the presumption to intrude 
himself upon my notice. I have no time to waste upon such 
unprofitable material. 

Nettie. I should think you might have time to treat him with 
ordinary civility. He is entitled to that much, by virtue of his 
relationship to Mr. Marsh, if on no other account. 

Alice. Well, I want him to understand from the first, the dif- 
ference in our relative stations ; that when I take command of 
the mansion, he may not presume upon any undue familiarity. 

Nettie. Nonsense, Alice ! such arrogance is as contemptible 
as it is absurd. I think such remarks indicate,— a decided dif- 



72 A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. 

fcrenoo in your stations, but not anything in your favor ! Mr. 
Saunders is a gentleman and a scholar, and quito his cousin's 
equal in everything save the mere accident of money ; and I, for 
oue, will not consent to hear him spoken of with so much disre- 
spect ! 

Alice. Dear me, Nettie ! you are valiant in defense of your 
lover! Admire him, by all means, as much as you please, only 
don't pretend to compare him to Mr. Marsh ! I'm sure he's not 
half so good looking. 

Nettie. And I'm sure that he's a trifle better looking. 

Enter Mrs. Moore. 

Mrs. Moore. Well, girls, how did you get along yesterday? 

Alice. Oh, splendidly, mamma ! we bad a beautiful time ! 
and better yet, Mr. Marsh asked permission to call and see me 
to-day ! Isn't that a pretty good three weeks' work ? 

Mrs. Moore. I should say so, indeed ; and how about you, 
Nettie ? 

Nettie. I too expect to receive a call from Mr. Saunders, 
to-day, mamma. 

Alice. Then do you take him into the sitting room when he 
comes, Nettie, while J will entertain Mr. Marsh in the parlor. I 
know one thing ! that aunt of his will have to walk when I take 
charge of the establishment ! 

Nettie. Why, Alice ! I'm sure she is a sweet old lady, and I 
love her dearly already ; and she seems to have quite an affection 
for me, too! "What possible reason can you have for acting so? 

Alice. I don't care to have her around, interfering with my 
freedom and authority, — that's my reason! And if you have 
taken such a fancy to her, you and Mr. Saunders can hire some 
little seven-by-nine cottage, when you get married, and take her 
to live with you ! 

Nettie. Alice, I think such talk is outrageous ! I don't be- 
lieve you would stand much of a chance with Mr. Marsh if he 
could hear you. 

Mrs. Moore. Girls, stop your wrangling ! Tou think Mr. 
Marsh will come to the point to-day, Alice ? 

Alice. I'msMreofit, mamma! and just think what a splen- 
did-looking couple we'll make standing up in the church. There's 
not another such a handsome looking man in the whole county. 

Nettie {smiling). With one exception — Mr. Saunders. 

Alice. Now, Nettie, don't you put that in again, or you'll 
offend me seriously ! There isn't a comparison between them. 

Mrs. Moore. I quite agree with Alice, Nettie, that Mr. Marsh 
is much superior to Mr. Saunders in every respect ! It's unfor- 
tunate that they are so closely related. 

AiiCE. Yes j but I shall not allow that to make any difference 



A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. 73 

in Mr. Saunders' favor. I shall treat him with the quiet reserve 
that niy superior station requires. 

Mrs. Moore. I am glad to see you manifest a proper spirit 
about it, Alice. But Mr. Marsh's proposal will be rather sudden, 
won't it, on such a short acquaintance? 

Alice. Delightfully sudden, mamma; but he has seemed per- 
fectly devoted to me since the first day we met. "When we paid 
that visit to his aunt the other day, he hung around me like one 
enchanted ; and then got her to show me all over the house. I've 
selected the very rooms I mean to occupy,— and it's just 
splendid ! 

Mrs. Moore. I congratulate you, my dear, upon your tact and 
skill in achieving so much in such a short time. * But there ! 
there's a ring now ; it must be Mr. Marsh. I'll go and let him in, 
and you be ready in the parlor to meet him. Nettie, come with 
me. \Exuent. 

SCENE IV.— Parlor. 

Enter Alice. 

Alice (seating herself ): Dear me! how my heart beats! A 
few moments longer — a few short words, and I shall be the pro- 
spective mistress of one of the finest mansions in the county, and 
with an unlimited amount of money to spend ! I do believe I 
was born under a lucky star. But I think I'll retract my promise 
to Nettie and not let Mr. Saunders remain with us, whether he 
marries Nettie or not. The poor wretch has evidently fallen in 
love with me, by the desperate efforts he has made to gain my 
notice and make himself agreeable, despite the fact of Mr. 
Marsh's prior claim; and it would be very annoying to have him 
around. I suppose he has only taken Nettie up as a sort of for- 
lorn hope, so she needn't plume herself upon having captivated 
him. I have given him pretty distinctly to understand, however, 
I guess, that any overtures of his are entirely beneath my notice. 
But there comes some one this moment. 

Enter Mr. Marsh. 

—oh ! good afternoon, sir ! very happy to see you ! take a seat, 
do. {they seat themselves.) 

Mr. Marsh. Miss Moore, lam a man of few words, and my 
actions toward you have doubtless interpreted to you before this 
the sentiments with which you have inspired me. Am I too 
abrupt in addressing you thus? 

Alice (aside). Ten thousand a year, and the finest home in 
the town ! glorious!— (aloud). Not too abrupt; Mr. Marsh, al- 
though it is a little unexpected. Proceed, if you please. 

Mr. Marsh. Let me say, then, Miss Alice, that I love you ; 
may I hope that my affection is returned? 



74 A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. 

Alice (shyly). You may, Mr. Marsh ! 

Mr. Marsh. And though my circumstances may not be so 
brilliant as those of others, may I still ask your consent to be my 
wife. 

Alice (aside). I consider such a rent-roll and bank-account as 
he has quite brilliant enough ! (aloud). My feelings for you, Mr. 
Marsh, are quite independent of any pecuniary considerations. 
I hope you didn't think me so mercenary as that, did you? 

Mr. Marsh. I do not now, at all events ; and it overjoys me 
to think that I have found one who loves me for myself alone ! 
let this seal our compact, dear Alice ! — (puts a ring on her 
finger). 

Alice (aside). What a beauty! won't the girls be jealous, 
though? 

Enter Nettie and Saunders, unperceived. 

Saunders. And so you are willing to unite your future destiny 
with mine, and take your first steps in this new and untried ex- 
istence as a poor man's bride f 

Nettie. We are both young and strong and life will be so 
much sweeter shared together, that it will aru|$y repay us for 
whatever trials it might bring. 

Saunders. So it will, darling ! I am rich indeed, in having 
found such a treasure in you ! But whatever trials you may have 
to battle with as my wife, poverty shall not be one of them ! 

Nettie. What do you mean, Charles? 

Saunders {abruptly). Let us go forward and speak to the 
others (advancing) —Alfred, congratulate me ! I am one of the 
happiest of men! 

Marsji (rising and shaking his hand). With all my heart, 
Charles ! and let me ask for yours on behalf of this dear girl, who 
has, as she says, given her love to me, without regard to my 
worldly possessions ! 

Saunders. Allow me to salute you, cousin ! (Offering to hiss 
her.) 

Alice (extending^ her hand). Pardon, Mr. Saunders ! but my 
affianced husband is the only one to whom I can accord such a 
privilege ! 

Saunders (roguishly). I wonder if my little sweetheart appre- 
ciates me to that extent ! What a cosy party we'll all mate in 
the old house ! I suppose our arrangements can go on just the 
same — the place is large enough to accommodate us all ! 

Alice. Excuse me," Mr. Saunders, but such an arrangement 
would be neither convenient nor desirable to me ! 

Saunders. I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Moore ! We should be 
very happy to have you stay with us. There are two complete 
suites of apartments, and it would be like one family. 

Alice (haughtily). I am quite aware of the arrangement of the 



A SUGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. 75 

various apartments, sir, but I should prefer to have the whole of 
the house for my own use, I have a number of friends, and— 

Marsh. But my dear — excuse for me interrupting you— but in 
an economical view it would be advisable to adopt Charles's sug- 
gestion. I could hardly feel able, at present, to support a separ- 
ate establishment in the same style that we could live there. 

Alice (pettishly). A separate establishment ! what are you 
thinking of, Alfred? /wasn't talking about our moving; I'm 
very well satisfied with the house, of course. 

Marsh. "Wbat change did you allude to, then, my love ? 

Alice. Why, the removal of your cousin, of course ! I should 
not care to have him — 

Marsh. "Why, my dear, you wouldn't think of turning him out 
of his own house, surely ! 

Alice. His own house ? I don't understand you ! 

Marsh. You have either made a mistake or oeen misinformed 
with regard to the real owner of the mansion, my dear Alice ! I 
told you at the first, you know, that my circumstances were 
moderate ; but I thought you were aware of the fact that Charley 
was Mr. Bates's step-son and heir to Locust Grove, and not my- 
self! 

Alice. He the heir? what a shameful imposition! and you 
made me believe it was you ! 

Marsh. I beg pardon, Miss Alice, I never said or did anything 
to create such an impression upon your mind. Such an idea 
would have been shameful. 

Alice. Well somebody did, then! it's shameful! outrageous! 
abominable! (Bursts into tears.) 

Nettie. AdcI so we have all been mistaken ! why, Charles, I 
am so surprised that I hardly know where I stand ! 

Saunders. And am I less desirable in your eyes, because I 
chance to be blessed with fortune ? 

Nettie. Not less, but no more, Charles ! I loved you just as 
well as a poor man, as I could were your fortune twice what it is ! 

Saunders. A noble, devoted girl ! And you won't object to 
share our home with Alfred and his wife ? 

Nettie. By no means ! I shall be most happy — 

Alice (looking up). Don't you talk about being "happy," 
Nettie Moore ! It's a shameful piece of deception, from begin- 
ning to end ! There's your ring, sir, and I can just tell you that 
I despise you and your offer ! I always thought that you had a 
deceitful look about you, and it was only the idea of your money 
that made you anyways endurable — (pitches ring toward him) — 
and I shall tell mother of your shameful behavior, and she will 
not consent to Nettie's having any relations whatever with such 
characters ! 

Marsh. Miss Alice, permit me then to condole you upon your 
dissappointment, and release you from our engagement ! 



76 A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. 

Alice. Thank you for nothing ! don't yon ever presume to ad- 
dress me again ! Nettie, if you don't order Mr. Saunders to leave 
the room, I will ! I'm sure the very first day we met, that man 
was talking to Mr. Saunders about the improvements the place 
needed with such an air of authority, that I inferred — 

Saunders. Miss Alice, let me say by way of apology, that we 
were aware of your inference, but desirous of winning your hearts 
by our individual merit, without regard to our pecuniary attrac- 
tions, we suffered the matter to remain unexplained. And while 
I regret that you should have been so disappointed, and ask your 
pardon for the innocent deception, I must say that I am more 
than satisfied with the result; for it has gained for me the warm, 
sincere, and genuine affection, of one whose price, I am convinced, 
is far above rubies ! 

Nettie. Don't flatter me, Charles ! 

Alice. Quite an interesting piece of sentiment, but it won't 
save your turn ! I wash my hands of your acquaintance, en- 
tirely ; and if Nettie contracts any relations with you, she does it 
at her own risk — and I shall consider her no sister of mine ! 

Nettie. Tou won't be so obdurate as that, Alice, I hope ! I 
love Charles, and have promised to marry him ; and I feel no dis- 
position to retract my promise. And with regard to Mr. Marsh, 
I am sure you have said — 

Alice (interrupting). Hold your tongue, minx ! I have said 
that I wish to have nothing further to do with either of them ! 
and I shall keep my words ! [Exit hurriedly. 

Saunders. And since this dear girl is willing to keep hers, we 
will be married before the roses begin to fade. Alfred, am sorry 
that I cannot congratulate you — 

Marsh (aside). I think you can! I just begin to realize that 
I have had a lucky escape. 

Saunders. You will not, I know, refuse me your felicitations, 
at the treasure I have won, and the true worth I have proven, 
through the kindly agency of A Slight Misunderstanding I 

TABLEAU. 



THE WONDERFUL LAMP. 

AN ORIGINAL MONOLOGUE. 



In this monologue, the speaker is supposed to recite a piece 
specially written for him by a friendly author; the words which 
he utters aside are his own personal remarks, and generally ad- 
dressed to his audience. 



SCEKE. — A Boom; left, a table with writing materials. 
Hie Speaker enters excit 



( Speaks.) Yes ! Oh, yes ! I understand it perfectly, aye, only 
too well ! A charming situation — truly ! Two letters to write— 
and both exactly the reverse of every wish and desire of my heart. 
My wishes — indeed ! Rich, and of a noble family — what are my 
wishes when opposed the miserable conventionalities of my rank? 
Oh ! If I were only a poor shepherd, or a workman in some fac- 
tory ! Master of my own acts, and of my own heart ! 

But, no ! I am hedged m by social usages, instituted by Mrs. 
Grundy, that invisible but omnipotent myth that rules us. Away 
with rank, riches, fashion ! they prevent me, actually forbid me 
to marry her whom I adore— Why ? — Because she is not of my 
rank — not in society. Bah ! What I am supposed to owe to the 
Past and to the Future puts the chains of slavery on me for the 
Present. The whole happiness of my existence has to be sacri- 
ficed to ancestors whom I never knew, and descendants whom I 
shall most likely never see. I am not the only suffering lamb to 
be socially slaughtered— there's the girl that I love, and who 
loves me — that's one, then there's myself— two; she, whom T 
do not love, and who loves me not, but whom I am expected to 
many —she makes three ; and we may go one step further -the 
man who perhaps does love her, or mav at some future time love 
her ! Eour bitterly disappointed individuals to be made miser- 
able by my unwilling act alone. 

So, in obedience to the united will of my entire familv, I must 
take my pen and write : first, a letter in which I must explain, 
delicately, but firmly, how impossible it is for a man of my rank 
to enter into an alliance with one who -who in short, hypo- 
critically break the heart of the dearest girl on earth. Second — 
Another letter full of ardent love and vows of eternal constancy 

77 



78 THE WONDERFUL LAMP. 

to a high-toned belle of society, for whom I do not care one straw, 
and who is perfectly aware of it. Then, having put the seal to 
my own misery, and others' misery, too, I am to sit down, proud 
of my chivalrous achievements and sleep the sleep of the virtuous! 
It makes me blush ! (Pause.) 

The first letter— let me see —what shall I say ?— How shall I 
say it?— How are such things— such monstrous things— generally 
expressed? — If I did not love her,— nothing easier; but then 
that's not the case — What a task !— How to begin"? (Sits at table 
and thinks.) Oh — what shall I say If — I'll take a penful of ink — 
perhaps inspiration will come (apostrophizes)— Oh, humble ink- 
stand ! Poor halting pen ! Perhaps for the first time to lend 
yourselves to an atrocious lie — aye— two of them, and yet you 
pale not ! 

Oh ! Benign and cherished Lamp ! (Looks for it, but there is 
no lamp.) Benign and cherish — Benign — 

(Aside excitedly.) How's this? (rises) No lamp! the idiots! 
Forgotten the lamp ? How can I get along without the lamp ? 
I must have it! (speaks off, left) Ho, there! are you 
all perfectly crazy ? Bring the lamp ! Quick ! — Not there ? 
— Fetch it then — (soliloquizes). Here's a pretty situation! 
Perhaps I may get inspiration while I wait— These ter- 
rible letters— they will break my heart— mine ? no, three hearts 
— four hearts. There's the heart of the girl I love — Oh, dear ! my 
head is distracted— I said all that before — What a situation ! 
Two lamps to write and no letters — No ! I mean no lamp— I 
shall certainly go crazy— Where is that idiot with the lamp? 
(furiously) Will he never bring — that— lamp ! ! (smiling) Ah ! 
it is here.— (A lamp is handed to him at the door). At last (sets 
lamp on table). Now I can get on again— Let's see ? where was 
I ? My ideas are completely mixed up— (Taps his forehead). 
Oh, yes — 

(Becites) And thou, benign and cherished lamp ! Thou silent 
and faithful companion of my darkest hours ! Cans't thou, too, 
lend thy aid to the treason of the heart ? Cans't thou shed thy 
soft, benignant rays— 

(Aside, impulsively) Oh — torture — this is not my lamp — some 
other lamp — the first one which that idiot could lay hands on — 
It's no use ! — (to the audience) Ladies! Gentlemen! After tres- 
passing on your patience, and keeping you in suspense while that 
villain was getting a lamp— a certain particular lamp — which 
ought to have been on that table from the very first — Bear with 
me, my friends — 

Here is a monologue— written expressly for me by an author 
you all know and esteem— he depended on me to do it justice — 
You perceived that when I had to address my lamp— no lamp 
was there— confusion— delay — I must explain — This lamp— a 
mere common lamp — is of no use at all— it burns well enough, as 



THREE BRAVE MEN. 79 

well as other lamps burn — but you see it required a lamp made 
expressly for this monologue— a mechanical lamp, which, when- 
ever I attempted to write an untrue word, would, of itself— invis- 
ibly aided by me— go down — down — almost out — like this {turns 
the wick down as he speaks), and when I abandoned my task and 
laid down my pen, the flame would rise up again with its former 
brilliance, thus (turns it up again). It is simply exasperating— 
I cannot finish the piece without the lamp specially made for it. 
—The effect would have been startlingly immense, but the rest 
- the most telling part— of the monologue would be simply ab- 
surd without the wonderful lamp. Instead of " a lad in, " its " a 
man out," extremely out. Fancy the play of Hamlet— the cur- 
tain up — the play commenced — and Hamlet sick in bed at home. 
— Oh I it's too ! ! (rushes off with excited gestures). 



THREE BRAVE MEN. 

A DKAWBTG-ROOM DIALOGUE. 



CRAEAC TEES 

Ernest, 

Barney, ^Barbara's Lovers 

Pierre, ) 



) Barbara. 

, > Barbara's Lovers. Dame Ferros, Barbara's mother. 



Dandy, A negro servant boy. 



SCENE I. — An antiquated room. Dame Ferros seated near a 
little spinning-wheel — has suspended ivork and is looking at 
Barbara, who stands before small mirror arranging hair. 

Dame Ferros. Why are you bo stubborn, Barbara ? It is 
high time that you were married. I am growing old and would 
like to see you settled in life. You have plenty of lovers. 

Barbara (tosses back hair from forehead). But they don't 
suit — that is —I am afraid to risk either one of them. 

Dame Ferros. I cannot see why — 

Barbara. Well ! In the first place I want to marry a man 
who is br^ve — equal to any emergency— a man who would pro- 
tect me against the world. I do admire manliness above all 
things. 

Dame Ferros. Is for that, your lovers are all manly enough. 
Silly child ! What's the matter with Big Barney ? 

Barbara. He is big — but I never heard that he is brave. 
Size does not make the man. Barney, indeed ! 



80 THREE BRAVE MEN. 

Dame Ferros. "Well, "well, there is Ernest, the gunsmith. I'm 
sure he has the name of being bold. "What is the objection to 
him ? 

Barbara. Ho is as placid as cow's milk. 

Dame Ferros. He was in the war. 

Barbara (drops comb, stoops to pick it up). To bo sure ! But 
what did ho ever do to signalize himself? He was never pro- 
moted higher than Captain. 

Dame Ferros. I thought he was considered quite brave. You 
are too hard to please, I fear, — Barbara— and, now I come to 
think of it — "What is the matter with Pierre. If he cannot speak 
good English he is a money-making fellow, and as nice a little 
man as one would meet in a day's travel. 

Barbara. Yes — and about as big as a minute — I detest small 
men. {Walks to and fro, tosses her head). Ha! ha! ha! what 
could he do if the house were set upon by robbers ? ! mother ! 

Dame Ferros. It is not always strength that wins in a fight. 
It takes brains as well as courage — Come now! Give these 
young fellows a fair trial! 

Barbara. That's precisely what I am going to do this very 
night, dear mother, and he who proves himself the bravest will 
win your Barbara for a wife. 

Dame Ferros {rises from seat). But how will you know ? In 
what way will you test them ? 

Barbara. Ah! That is my secret. All I ask of you {draws 
nearer to Dame Ferros) is, if you should hear a noise during 
the night do not be alarmed — ( Walks about.) 

Dame Ferros (lays hand on Barbara's arm). Not to-night, 
Barbara. See ! It is past ten already {looks closer at clock). 
Dear ! dear ! It is almost eleven ! 

Barbara. Do not look so imploringly woe-begone, dear 
mother. It is but an innocent plan of my own invention and 
can work no real harm. I have it all arranged. Ernest will be 
here presently, and if you will only retire and leave us alone I 
shall soon put his courage to the test. 

Dame Ferros. But, child! Is this prudent? It is late and 
you know how — 

Barbara (coaxingly). Mother, dear, can you not trust me? 
(starts) Hark ! There is Ernest now ! I know his step. In- 
deed, you may trust me (imploringly). Only this once ! Please 
go ! 

Dame Ferros. Yery well — I suppose I must humor this 
caprice — I will trust you, Barbara — (raises finger). Be pru- 
dent! 

Barbara. I will, darling mother. Good-night (kisses Dame). 
There ! [Exit Dame Ferros. 

{Buns to mirror, arranges her front liair, smooths her apron.) 



THREE BRAVE MEN 81 

Enter Ernest. 

Ernest {goes hastily up to Barbara, takes both her hands 

within his own). Barbara ! You sent for me ! 

Barbara (withdraws hands demurely). Yes, Ernest. 

Ernest. Well, Barbara! 

Barbara (toys with corner of apron). I have been thinking of 
your proposition, Ernest, and — and— 

Ernest (draws closer to Barbara). And you sent for me to 
tell me I may hope? Fay, do not turn away. Did you think, 
Barbara, that you might change your mind before morning, that 
you appointed this late hour for our meeting ? Eh ? little one ! 
(Attempts to place arm about Barbara's whist). 

Barbara (crosses to opposite side, puts hands in apron pock- 
ets). None of that, Ernest. Before I give you a final answer, I 
mu^t test 3 r ou. 

Ernest. Test me! How? 

Barbara. Your courage — your bravery — but oh, Ernest, if yon 
should fail ! I am going to make an odd request. 

Ernest. Name it. I could dare anything for — 

Barbara. Come nearer, Ernest. Do you remember the 
haunted chamber ? (points) the room away at the far end of the 
house ? 

Ernest. Oh, yes— 

Barbara. The room in which it is said a man was murdered 
years ago- before my grandfather died. You know they tell the 
most awful tales about it. 

Ernest. I've heard them, and all about the murdered man's 
ghost. 

Barbara. I want you to sleep in that room to-night — this very 
night, Ernest. 

Ernest. And if I do, what then ¥ Come — If I promise to sleep 
there — will you — 

Barbara. Ah ! but that is not all. You are not only to sleep 
there, but you must personate a dead man ! 

Ernest {starts). A dead man? 

Barbara. Yes— You must submit to being arrayei as a corpse, 
and regularly laid out upon a board — wrapped in a winding sheet 
— your face chalked, and — 

Ernest (aside). What can she mean ? (To Barbara.) And 
how long, dear Barbara, must I remain dead % Not till the last 
day? (Laughs.) 

Barbara. It is no laughing matter — at least you will conclude 
it is not, before the nigbt is over. Your nerves will be sorely 
tried. But you must pledge yourself to remain perfectly quiet, — 
yes, as still as if you were really dead. If you stay in the haunted 
chamber till daylight, bear in mind, I will marry you, as sure as 
I now am Barbara Ferros. 



82 THREE BRAVE MEN. 

Ernest. Ton had as well go to work immediately upon your 
wedding dress, for you are as good as married. 

Barbara {nods coquettishly). Do not be too sure. (Calls.) 
Dandy! Dandy! 

Dandy (outside). Comin', Miss Barb'ra. 

Enter Dandy. 

Barbara. Come to me. Now listen ! Go to my room and 
you will see on the table a lantern, and a piece of chalk— and on 
the rocking-chair you will find two clean, white sheets. Bring 
them all to me. 

Dandy. Yes 'em. [Exit Dandy. 

Barbara. No one sleeps in that part of the house. 

Ernest. Do you think I am superstitious? Why, Barbara, I 
would gladly sleep a week in a graveyard to win you. 

Barbara. I will believe in your bravery, Ernest, when 1 see 
it tested, and know that you do not fail. 

Ernest. I was never afraid, even when I was a child. Yon 
must look upon me as a coward, indeed, if yon suspect that I am 
afraid to sleep in the haunted chamber. 

Barbara.' You have not tried it yet 

Enter Dandy, with sheets, etc. 

Come, Ernest !— Dandy, take the light,— give me one of the 
sheets. Here! (To Ernest.) You carry the other. Go on, Dandy, 
and lead the way. 

Dandy {trembles violently). Lor', Miss Barb'ra ! (Drops chalk 
and lantern.) Yo' ain't gwine up darf 

Barbara. Look at the simple creature ! Pick up those things 
instantly, and go on. 

Dandy (picks up and drops the articles several times). Fo' 
grachis', Miss Barb'ra, ef yo' goes up dem dar' steps, yo' ain't 
nuver comin' back. 

Barbara. Silence! Goon! (Starts towards Dandy.) 

Dandy. Oh ! I is goin' ; but oh Lor', Miss, ef yo' jes' know'd 
what "Uncle Simon seed ! (Passes between Barbara and en- 
trance.) Fur de Massa's sake don'! I 'clar fo' goodniss Uncle 
Pinion say he seed a man wid his hade cut plum off! Bathe 
did! 

Ernest (seizes lantern). Stop your nonsense, Dandy, and fol- 
low your Miss Barbara. Til go before. Come! TSo more fool- 
ing. 

(As they move off stage, Dandy falls behind gesticulating ana 
rolling his eyes, terrified). ' [Exeunt. 



THEEE BEAVE MEN. »d 

SCENE II. — Same apartment. 
Enter Barbara. 

Barbara. How well my plans work so far. That old room 
does look frightfully dismal. I wonder why Barney does not 
come. He promised to be here punctually (shivers)* It makes 
me actually nervous to think of Ernest. He looks horrible with 
that sheet over him, and his face so awfully white, for I did not 
spare the chalk (noise outside). There is Barney at last — Come 
ia! 

Enter Barney. 

I was afraid you would not come. I am so glad to see you. 

Barney (aside). What can she waut ? (to Barbara). Tell 
me, Barbara, the object of this meeting. Dare I hope that you 
sent for me in order to give me a favorable answer to my pro- 
posal — and that — 

Barbara. We will not talk of this now — 

Barney. Why not now ? 

Barbara. Because, before I can promise to marry you, Bar- 
ney, you must do me a great favor. Can you keep a secret ? 

Barney. Can a duck swim ? (draws closer to Barbara). Ah, 
Barbara ! you know only too well that I can do and dare any- 
thing for you. 

Barbara. I am going to put you to the test — 

Barney. I am ready to — 

Barbara. Do not interrupt me. I know you have heard of 
the ghost chamber in this house. (Barney nods). The secret 
is this. There is now a corpse lying in that room. If you dare 
sit with it all night, and let no thmg "drive you away from your 
post, you will not ask my hand again in vain. 

Barney. But who is this dead person —I do not desire to be 
implicated — 

Barbara. I pledge you my word there is nothing connected 
with the corpse that can bring you into trouble— Besides I 
thought you loved me too well to — 

Barney. Not another word, my dear Barbara, I shall take 
your say so and do your bidding —You will, however, give me a 
light — a bottle of wine, and a book to read. 

Barbara. No — I shall give you nothing* 

Barney. You offer no conditions except those you have men- 
tioned ? 

Barbara. None— and if you are frightened, you need never 
look me in the face again. 

Barney. I am not afraid of any living man, and I am very 
sure I should feel no fear in the presence of a dead one. 

Barbara. You are willing then to do all I ask ! 

Barney. Perfectly — especially when my reward is to be — 



84 THREE BRAVE MEN. 

Barbara. ! never mind that now. Dandy 
Enter Dandy. 

Barbara. Show Mr. Barney the way to the haunted chamber. 
(hands light to Dandy, who troubles convulsively.) 

Barney. The foolish fellow. .Give me the candle— Now ! 
Forward ! March ! lExit Barney, followed by Dandy. 

Barbara. So far so good ! But poor Ernest ! I hope he will 
— {noise outside, peers at entrance). Pierre, as I live! I am 
glad he did not see Barney. 

Enter Pierre. 

Pierre {bows low). Mam'zelle Ferros. Ze servant inform me 
you desire me to see. 

Barbara. Yes — and I am glad to see you. It is very kind to 
come at this late hour. 

Pierre. Aye, Mam'zelle, no apologize. May I so flatter my- 
self zat you desire me to come zat you my heart shall comfort 
and say zat you vill be miue leetle vile ? 

Barbara"! Is r o— not yet, Pierre; I sent for yon to-night be- 
cause I want to test you. 

Pierre (puzzled). Test! Yat ees " test " ? 

Barbara. I mean to try you — try your courage. You under- 
stand ? To see if you are brave. 

Pierre. I comprehend. Zen eef ven you make ze discover zat 
I am one hero, zen vat ? 

Barbara. Prove to me that you are truly brave— not afraid — 
then I will consent to be your wife. 

Pierre. Good ! Eef I you convince zat I am a man brafe— 
" truly brafe ''—zen I will claim for me zis leetle hand. {Seizes 
Barbara's hand, attempts to Iciss it.) 

Barbara {draws hand away). Yes, but first you must give 
me proof — 

Pierre. Yat must I — 

Barbara. Pay attention to me. In this old house is a room 
where a long while ago a man was murdered — killed. 

Pierre. Diable ! 

Barbara. Do not interrupt me. In that room to-night is a 
dead man. (Pierre starts.) Besides there is another man — 

Pierre. Dead? 

Barbara. No— but do not interrupt me— The man who is 
alive is watching the corpse. Now can you make that man leave 
his post? I mean, can you frighten him — make him run? 

Pierre. Yes, mam'seile. 

Barbara. But how? 

Pierre. I vill terrify him ! I vill alarm him ! I vill make him 
to ruu like zis— (starts to run). Comprehend? 

Barbara. How will you do this ? 



THREE BBAVE MEN. 85 

Pierre. Ah ! ha ! Zere ees ze man dead — and ze man alife vat 
a vatch keep ofer ze man dead— Ton give me one long vite sheet, 
an' vat yon call him? (strokes his face) ze zing to vite mine face 
like von man dead I Eh— I myself envelope in ze sheet. Eh ! 

Barbara. 0, I see. It is chalk — 

Pierre. Yees. Zat ees ze name, slialk ! Zen I vill say to ze 
life ruau, "You come vid me" — so ! (Raises finger, beckons.) Zen 
he vill tremble. 

Barbara. But can you do this ? 

Pierre. Certainment, mam'selle— I vill make him to run — fly ! 
Zen, I come my leetle vife to claim ? 

Barbara. Yes — and now, here are the articles yon need. 
(Hands Pierre sheet and chalk.) Come ! I will show you the 
way — [Exeunt. 



SCENE III. — A dismal, dingy unfurnished apartment. Ernest 
laid out as a corpse, and covered icith a sheet, at the extreme 
back. Barney discovered near front, seated in a chair, his 
head bent upon his hands. The stage must be very dimly 
lighted. 

Barney (raises head, looks about him). I would swear I hear 
some one breathing every now and then. What a de'il of a racket 
the mice keep up ! and now the wind creeps and moans through 
this old place ! (Bises ; icalks to and fro.) It's not very pleasant 
to keep the company of a dead man all night long. But pshaw ! 
I'd be willing to watch forty corpses for as many nights to win 
my precious Barbara. (Starts.) By George ! I was sure I heard 
some one moving. (Looks furtively towards Ernest.) It must 
be my fancy — I'll try to sleep a while— (places chair against ivall 
— seats himself with head against wall.) Hot so bad after all — 
(Closes eyes.) 

Enter Pierre, wrapped in a sheet, his face and hands covered 
with chalk, glides close to Barney — touches him lightly, falls 
back. 

Barney (starts up ; rubs eyes, looks towards corpse, turns, 
sees Pierre. (Aside.) Gad' there is two of them. 
(Pierre moves in front of Barney, raises hand— beckons.) 

Barney. Curse you — Get out of this ! 

Pierre (holds out arm to Barney). Come ! 

Barney. The mischief take you. (Steps backward.) 

Pierre (approaches Barney as if to embrace him. Barney, 
desperate, falls upon Pierre, they roll over and over each other, 
thumping, beating, and kicking. In the height of the struggle 
Ernest slowly rises to sitting posture.) 

Ernest. Shame ! Take one of your size, Barney. 



^ 



86 SYKES'S PREDICAMENT. 

(Barney and Pierre pause, look at Ernest; both spring up 
affrighted and run with speed from stage.) 

Enter Barbara in haste. 

Barbara (runs up to Ernest). 0! Ernest! I was afraid they 
bad murdered vou! How did it all happen? I am dying to know 
—Tell me ! (Looks up pleadingly and lovingly.) Are you hurt? 

Ernest (comes forward with arm about Barbara's waist). 
No, Barbara. It is sufficient that I have won the sweetest and 
dearest little wile in the world ; and besides : "Dead men tell no 

CURTAIN. 



SYKES'S PREDICAMENT. 

AS OKIGINAL FAKCE. 



CHARACTERS. 



Jeremiah Sykes. 
Aunt Sally Sykes. 
Melinda Simpson. 



Alvina Simpson. 
Jerusha Simpson. 
Susan, the Maid. 







SCE2s"E I.— Jeremiah seated disconsolately in an arm chait~m~ 
dressing-gown and slippers. 

Enter Aunt Sally with knitting. 

Aunt Sally (seating herself). I declare, Jeremiah, its per- 
fectly ridiculous that you haven't stepped off yet ! I never saw 
such a consarned old goose as you be ! Here's plenty of gals, 
I'm sure, would be powerful glad to have you ; and if any man 
needs a wife, you do ! Your house will all go to wreck and ruin 
if you don't get one soon ; for the extravagant way that house- 
keeper of yours goes on with no mistress to look after her and 
keep her straight, is enough to give a body a conniption fit ! 
Mark my words, Jeremiah "Sykes ! if you don't get a wife pretty 
soon, you'll fetch up in the poor-house ! Why don't you set 
about it ? 

Jeremiah (nervously). I know I need a wife ! and if one of 
the dear creatures would only come to me, and tell me she'd 
have me, I'd be eternally grateful ! But, oh ! Aunt Sally ! after 
going through all the horrors of— of— sitting down close by her 



STKES's PREDICAMENT. 87 

and asking the awful question, even supposing she said yes ;" 
then to have it get about, and the whole village talking about it, 
as they always do !— the're the greatest set to gossip in all cre- 
ation ! — and pointing to us two whenever we went out to meet- 
ing or anywhere together ! Oh ! I never could stand it ! And 
then the uncertainty ! that alone would be enough to be the death 
of me! 

Aunt Sally. Well, I never did see such an old numbskull in 
all the days of my life ! You'll have to go without a wife, then, 
to the end o' your days ; for a man that hain't got the spunk to 
ask for one, and stand up for her after he's got her, too, isn't 
worth any gal's wastin' her time on ! And I'll just tell you what 
it is, Jeremiah Sykes ! if you aren't fixed up in some way by the 
time I come to see you again, I'll consider you a disgrace to the 
family, and not lit for sensible folks to associate with ! I declare, 
if I was a little nearer your age, sooner than see you go on in 
this miserable way, I'd marry you myself ! 

Jeremiah (with a groan). I wish to goodness you would! 
you're such a capital hand about the house ; and I know I ain't 
fit to take care of myself! Couldn't — couldn't you fix it up some 
way, as it is ? I'm willing ! 

Aunt Sally (rising in high dudgeon). You'd better ask your 
grandmother! It would be just about as sensible ! I'd look 
pretty, wouldn't I, a marryin' the fellow I've many a time held 
over my knee when he was a boy ! I only wish to goodness I 
could have " hickory 'd " some sense into you ! I'd advise you to 
save your spunk for the benefit of some of these pretty girls that 
go by here every day, and wouldn't want to be asked twice to 
come and live here, and not be talking such consarned stuff to 
me ! I thought I had brought you up to better purpose than 
that ! But I see there's no use in my wastin' any more time on 
you ! I've staid away from home just as long as I can afford to, 
an' I have got to go back this mornin'. Good-bye ; only just re- 
member what I've told you, that's all. [Exit Airsr Sally. 

Jeremiah (getting up and walking about nervously). "Was 
ever anybody in such a plight as I am ! There seems to be no 
use in trying to put the dreadful thing off any longer, either ! 
what with Aunt Sally on one side, and those awful girls on the , Jk 
other, it's enough to drive me to the lunatic asylum ! I declare V 
it is ! I verily believe I feel mv head beginning to soften alreadv ! H 
Oh, dear ! dear! if I'd only been born a woman ! if it was only 
leap year, and some of the dear creatures a little strong-minded ! 
I never realized what a blessing such a state of things would be, 
until this minute ! I'd sooner walk up to a cannon's mouth, I 
declare I would, than sit tete-a-tete with one of those feminines 
for five minutes! And yet— (stops short and looks around)— 
there's ever so many empty corners about the house that would 
look kinder nice and pretty filled up with a woman's fixins ! 



88 STKES S PREDICAMENT. 

Aud it would seem sort of pleasant and sociable to hear a pair of 
gaiter-boots pattering about, and see a lot of dainty skirts whisk- 
ing in and out of the rooms ! By Jove liny courage is rising! 
I begin to feel considerable like it, now! I'll just sit down and 
count 'em on my fingers, aud make up my mind which of the 
dear creatures I'll apply to. (sits down), Let's see— there's the 
Miss Browns— there's two of them, so I could take my choice — 
but— oh, dear no ! that will never do ! they live right next door 
to that awful Mrs. Blake, and she's the greatest gossip in cre- 
ation ! it would be all over the town half an hour afterward, if I 
was to go there ! {reflects a moment). Ah ! I have it ! it shall 
be one of the Miss Simpsons ! they're pretty nice girls, I guess ; 
at any rate the neighbors seem to think so, for my housekeeper 
here tells me they call 'em the "three Graces." I know them 
about as well as I do any of thefeminines of the village ; although 
that's not saying a great deal. Let's see — that'll make three 
wives — no— hang it ! I'm wrong ! one wife and two sisters-in-law ; 
quite a party ! I'll let 'em all come and live here, I guess, and 
then if one is sick, t'other two can see to the cooking, and so on, 
and then if Mrs. S., that is to be, should die, there'd be another 
right handy to step in and fill her place. I guess that's about as 
good an arrangement as I could make! The only bother is, they 
all look so much alike, that it's hard to tell one from the other. 
However, I'll try it, and I guess I'll come out all right ; and now 
I must go and make myself look as presentable as possible. 

[Exit Jeremiah. 



I 



SCENE II. — A room in the Misses Simpson's house. Alvina 
discovered, sitting at window. 

Enter Jerusha. 

Jertjsha. Oh, yon needn't waste time looking out of that win- 
dow ! There's nobody coming over here to see you, I can tell 
you ! If there's any signification in the way Mr. Sykes has been 
going past here for the last few days, it's likely that he's a man 
of more sense than not to pay his addresses to the proper head of 
the house ! 

Alvina (snappishly). It's likely that he's a man of more taste 
than not to direct his attentions to the one that he can very 
plainly see is the most attractive in both appearance and man- 
ners! If J was nine and twenty years of age, I'd be ashamed to 
think of trying to cut out a younger and — well!— it' snot neces- 
sary for me to add any more ! The matter's plain enough ! 

Jerusha. I agree with you! I think the matter is, decidedly, 
plain enough ! especially if the "matter'' is designated as Alvina 
Simpson ! And as to talking about ages, miss, I'd have you to 
remember that such a speech reflects upon you as well as me, 



STKES'S PREDICAMENT. 89 

for there isn't three years' difference between ns ! And Mr. 
Sykes is a man that Trill be far more attracted by a dignity of de- 
portment, combined with a certain grace of style, which is pos- 
sessed by— I need not say, what member of thefainily ! 

Enter Melinda. 

Melinda. No, indeed, you needn't ! the most ordinary observer 
can very easily see upon which one of the family, what few at- 
tractions it can boast, rests! And as for Mr. Sykes — for I don't 
need to be told that you are talking about him — I don't hear any- 
thing else, now-a-days! — when he chooses a partner from tliis 
family, it will be the one, who, combined with a pleasing exter- 
ior, possesses the most good sense and careful cultivation of 
mind. 

Alvina. Why don't you finish your fine speech, and say that 
the centre of all those graces and virtues, is Melinda Simpson ! 
It's perfectly aggravating to see the insufferable conceit of some 
people ! However, I'm willing to admit, Melinda, that, perfectly 
ridiculous as the idea appears in any other comparison, even you 
would stand a better chance of becoming Mrs. Sykes than that 
creature! — (points to Jertjsha)— who thinks, at her age, to com- 
pete with her juniors and superiors ! 

Melinda (with a mock courtesy). Thank you, my love! I feel 
highly flattered by your encomiums, I assure you ! and I appre- 
ciate the honor of being named in connection with such a univer- 
sally acknowledged belle as yourself! But I am not quite ready 
to admit the absurdity of the comparison in any case ! I flatter 
myself that I can stand upou my own merits, with no fear of 
rivalry from my very near relatives ! When Mr. Sykes makes up 
his mind to take a wife, his own good judgment will tell him how 
to strike the happy medium between a dried-up antiquity on the 
one hand, and a piece of conceited deception on the other ! 

Alvina. Your first comparison is a very happy one, my dear 
Melinda! as for the second, I pass it by, as not worth my 
notice ! My own intuitions are perfectly at rest as to the most 
worthy object of Mr. Sykes's preference ! 

Jertjsha (angrily). You are both a pair of impudent, conceited 
hussies! who have got no more sense than to waste your time in 
supposing impossibilities ! My own heart tells me who will one 
day be mistress in the house across the way ! 

Melinda. I wish you joy of such a true and infallible prophet! 
My own recollection tells me who walked a half block home with 
me from the post-office the other day ! 

Alvina (sneeringly). Eemarkably significant! when both 
houses are in the same direction, and one side of the way was 
too muddy to walk on at all ! I know who stood talking to me 
over the gate for as much as ten minutes ! 

Jertjsha. Only to ask a direction ; the answer to which you, 



90 SYKES's PREDICAMENT. 

artful creature, kept him waiting for as long as you could ! trying 
all the while to look as killingly beautiful as possihle ! I saw it 
all out of my window, Miss! It didn't avail, however, audsome- 
hod n came into the house, as mad as a March hare ! /could tell 
something, too, if I chose ! 

Melinda. Oh, I dare say ! you are equal to any amount of 
romancing, both of you ! If I couldn't stand on my own merits, 
I wouldn't make pretences ! When you see me the happy wife 
of Jer — of Mr. Sykes — you'll remember my words ! 

Jerusha. The world will come to an end before Jeremiah 
Sykes —1 ain't afraid to speak his name, Miss— loses his senses so 
far as to pay his addresses to you ! I have reasons that satisfy 
me for what I say ! 

A l vina. Yes! the reason is that you are trying your very best 
to catch him ! I know what takes you out in the front garden 
just by accident whenever Mr. Sykes goes by ! But he's got a 
little more sense. I hope ! When he chooses a partner it will be 
one who is a little younger than his mother was ! 

Jerusha. If you make any more such impertinent speeches, 
Miss, I'll show you that I am enough your senior to box your 
ears ! A pretty life Jeremiah would lead with you ! 

Melinda. Yes, indeed ! 

Jerusha. You needn't think to conciliate me by joining in ! 
You're no better ! 

Melinda. I suppose not ! It's very easy to see who monop- 
olizes all the attractions in the family ; or who thinks she does, 
which amounts to about the same thing ! Well, people seem to 
find a great deal of comfort in deceiving themselves ! 

Enter Susan. 

Melinda {sharply). Well, what do you want here, minx ! 
Have you nothing else to do but to pry into other people's bus- 
iness ? 

Susan. I thought I was wanted, ma'am ! 

Alvina. What should we want you for ! To admire your 
beauty, I suppose you think ! How long have you been listen- 
ing outside of the door ? 

Susan. No time at all, ma'am. I thought I heard some one 
call me, so I just came. 

Jerusha. Well, I've got no time to waste here in idle discus- 
sions ! I know what I know ; and that satisfies me ! [Exit. 

Melinda. I've wasted too much time already in listening to 
impertinent speeches ! I've got an errand to do in the village 
that will afford me an interval of peace for an hour or so, at any 
rate, {to Susan). You idle creature, go back to your work, at- 
once ! \Exit. 

Alvina. Susan, I've got to go out shopping for awhile this 
morning, and if any one comes and asks for me, tell him — them, 



SYKES's PREDICAMENT. 91 

I'll be back presently. Do you bear? Why don't you answer 
me? 

Susan. Yes, ma'am. 

Alvina. And do you stir yourself, and see tbat tbat parlor is 
dusted and in order. If there's a single thing out of place when 
I come back, I'll box your ears ! There's got to be no idling in 
this place ! Now march ! 

[Ex-it Alvina, driving Susan before her. 



SCENE III. — Miss Simpson's parlor, darkened. 

Enter Susan. 

Susan (dusting). Well, if I haven't got three of the greatest 
mistresses that ever a poor girl was tortured with ! No matter 
what I do, I can't seem to satisfy or please them ! Is it my 
fault, I'd like to know, that they are going on to thirty — they're 
pretty much of an age, all of 'em — sour and sallow and without 
even a ghost of a beau among 'em, in spite of their rouge, and 
pearl powder and false braids, and "bloom of youth" — while 
I'm only nineteen, and— and— just the least bit in the world good 
looking ! 
— (tip-toes up to the glass and loolcs smilingly at her reflection). 

I'm sure I wasn't to blame for having a pretty face ! I verily 
believe, though, if there was any way of getting it off from me, 
Miss Melinda, or one of the other two would steal it while I'm 
asleep to try and catch young Sykes with it ! It's enough to 
make a body die laughing, to see them peeping out from behind 
the parlor blinds whenever he goes by, to see if he isn't coming 
in here after one of them ; and practising their smiles before the 
glass each day when the others ain't looking ! And then to hear 
them quarreling about which one he likes best, and which one is 
the most likely to become Mrs. Sykes, when he hasn't asked any 
of them yet ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! it's too killing ! 
— (throws herself on the sofa, laughing. AJcnoclc at the door). 

Susan (springing up). Mercy ! who can that be ! and I with 
the room not half dusted ! Never mind ; they keep the place as 
dark as a prison, so as not to spoil their beautiful complexions — 
ha ! ha ! ha ! — and I guess whoever it is won't see the dust. 
"Won't I catch it, though, after the company is gone, for neglect- 
ing my work ! Heigho ! if somebody would only propose to me 
now ! 
— (goes to door). 

Susan (at door, aside). Well, I never ! Speak of angels, and 
you hear their wings ! Here's the " object," sure enough ! 

Jeremiah (f alter ingly), Is — is — Miss Simpson at home ? 

Susan (nodding). One of 'em is ! 

Jeremiah (uneasily). Thank you ! — thank you ! will you tell 



92 SYEES's PREDICAMENT. 

her — tell her — F<1 like to see her for a few moments if she isn't 
otherwise engaged ? 

Susan. She isn't doing anything just now. I guess you can 
see her. Come in, 
— (Susan goes toward door. Jeremiah sinks into a chair). 

Jeremiah (pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his face). 
Thank goodness ! that much is over ! but oh, dear ! I begin to 
feel dreadful— perfectly dreadful! What shall I do ? how shall 
1 begin? It's the first time I was ever in any of their houses. 
If I thought I could make my escape without being seen, I'd be 
tempted to run away this minute ! And they have got the room 
so confounded dark, too, and I'm so near-sighted, that when 
they come in I shan't know which is which ! However, she said 
only one of them was in, and that will make it easy ; and then I 
won't see her looking at me when I ask her, either ! I guess it's 
just as well to have the parlor dark, after all ! Oh ! what I have 
gone through this day! spoiled halt' a dozen collars and four 
handkerchiefs; pouring a lot of hair oil on one, and a bottle of 
shoe blacking on the other ! Dear, dear, what a perspiration I'm 
in ! However, I've got that much right — (smells his handker- 
chief) — she'll be sure to recognize the "I love you'' on this one, 
and understand my sentiments. 

Susan (at door). Ah ha! after the "three Graces" is he? 
Isn't it lucky the other two went out shopping ! Won't they be 
ready to tear Miss Jerusha's eyes out when they do come home. 

[Exit Susan. 

Enter Jerusha. Sykes starts ; springs up with a profound 
bow. 

Jeremiah. G-ood afternoon, my dear Miss Simpson ! a— a — I 
a — that is — a most delightful day ! 

Jerusha (smiling). Yery delightful ! very delightful indeed ! 
I'm really very happy to receive this call from you, Mr. Sykes ! 
you have kept yourself so much aloof from your neighbors ! 

Jeremiah. I — I — yes, I know I was wrong. But I mean to 
reform, Miss Simpson— I do, indeed ! 

Jerusha. A very laudable resolution, Mr. Sykes ! a very good 
resolution, I'm sure ! 

Jeremiah (rolling Ms handkerchief in his hands). Yes ! I 
think so myself ! So I thought I'd begin by coming over to see 
you, and— and— (stops, confused). 

Jerusha (aside). 1 knew it wasn't for nothing that I saw that 
figure in the candle the other night ! Those saucy jades will 
have to find some one else to make fun of after this ! (aloud). 
Yes, Mr. Sykes! 

Jeremiah (ivith a great effort). I thought I'd come to— to — 
you see it's such a delightful day ! 

Jerusha (aside). The stupid fool! (aloud). Yery pleasant! 



SYKES'S PREDICAMENT. 93 

and your little farm looks splendid, Mr. Sykes ! you take such 
excellent care of it. I often envy you as I look from my window 
and see you working on it — you look so contented and happy ! 
(sighs). 

Jeremiah. Yes, I— I— work around a little. It's a very nice 
little place ; at any rate, I like it ! 

Jerusha (with animation). I should think you would like it 
very much ! And have you a good housekeeper ? It's so hard 
for a single man to get suited in that respect, you know ! he's so 
liable to be imposed upon; and it does need a woman who un- 
derstands all the matters thoroughly, and is faithful in attending 
to them, to make a home comfortable. There are very few good 
housekeepers to be found nowadays, I fear ! and a hireling's ser- 
vice is so different from that of one who has a legitimate interest 
in one. Don't you think so ? 

Jeremiah [sighing). Yes, it is ! Your words are true— very 
true. My housekeeper does very well, though ; but I begin to 
feel the ueed of a— a— more congenial compauion — (hesitates). 

Jerusha (aside). It's coming ! [aloud). A wife, of course! In 
fact— (bashfully) —your friends have been wondering, Mr. Sykes, 
why you haven't taken one long ago! 

Jeremiah (straightening himself up). I'm going to ! and — and 
you live so near me, Miss Simpson, perhaps — perhaps you 
"wouldn't object to living a little nearer! I— that is— 

Jerusha (drawing her chair closer). Please to speak a little 
plainer, Mr. Sykes ! 

Jeremiah (talcing her hand). I want a wife, Miss Simpson ! 
and- and I want you if you'll have me ! 

Jerusha [letting her head sink on his shoulder). Oh, Jeremiah ! 
do you really love me like that ? 

Jeremiah (with energy). To be sure I do ! And do you love me? 

Jerusha. Oh! Jeremiah ! mere words fail utterly to express 
the depth of my affection for you ! My heart has long been 
yours ! and the words you have spoken to-day have filled my cup 
of happiness to overflowing ! 
^(throws her arms about his neck. He Jcisses her). 

Jeremiah (releasing her). Then it's done, isn't it ? I'm awful 
glad I came to-day, instead of putting it off any longer ! I am, 
indeed ! 

Jerusha (bashfully). So am I, Jeremiah ! And I won't keep 
you waiting a great while. I don't believe in long engagements. 
I'll fix an early day for the wedding ! 

Jeremiah. Yes, do; that's a darling ! You don't know what 
a hurry I'm into have it all over! I'll write to Aunt Sally this 
very afternoon, to tell her the news and thank her for her good 
advice ; for she threatened unless I behaved like a sensible man 
and got a wife, that she'd never have anything more to do with 
me ! and now I've got you ; haven't I ? 



94 STKES'S PREDICAMENT. 

Jerusha (hanging her head). Yes, Jeremiah ! 

Jeremiah. But just — just suppose you don't say anything to 
your sisters, or let it get known around here, about our— our 
being engaged— that is for a day or two. It's new to me to be — 
to be fixed this way ; and though I don't mind Aunt Sally's 
knowing it, I want a little time to get used to it before the 
people in the village get talking ! They're such an awful set to 
gossip about such matters, you know, and I never could stand it 
--never! I'd almost rather — 

Jerusha (hastily). Your wish shall be my law, now as ever, 
Jeremiah ! (aside). I thought he was going to back out ! It 
would be just like him to, at the last minute, the blockhead ! but 
I mustn't let it happen, on any account ! 

Jeremiah. And you won't tell anybody, then ? 

Jerusha. No, Jeremiah ! set your heart at rest. I will keep 
my happiness secret for awhile, and then, when you consent, I 
will speak, and call all the world to behold my bliss ! 
— (a loud knock outside). 

Ah ! excuse me for a moment ! The person who supplies our 
daily requirement of the staff of life has arrived, and is awaiting 
a liquidation of his accounts below stairs. One moment, and I 
will be with you again. 
—(kisses her hand to him.— at door — aside.) 

That'll settle the question as to which one he's after with 
Melinda and Alvina, I guess ! the conceited things ! they'll show 
me a little more respect after this, perhaps. Won't they be mad, 
though ! Bother that baker ! to come and interrupt me at such 
a delightful moment ! Never mind ! the bread and milk bills 
will be paid with somebody else's money after this ! [Exit. 

Jeremiah. If anybody had told me this morning, before that 
talk with Aunt Sally, that I'd be sitting here, in a woman's 
parlor, before night, after asking her to have me, I'd have told 
them — well, I wouldn't have believed it, at any rate ! And yet 
here I've been and gone and done it ; and it's all safely over ! 
Oh, Aunt Sally ! I shall be grateful to you as long as I live, for 
driving me to it ! That Miss Simpson's a nice girl, and it feels 
splendid to be engaged ! I declare that kiss was first-rate ! It's 
tip-top to think that a fellow can go and get one whenever he 
has a mind to ! But I never thought to ask her what her name 
is ! I know one' of 'em is Jerusha, another Melinda, and the 
other Alvina, but I'm blessed if I know which of 'em I popped 
the question to ! I'll try and remember to ask her when she 
comes back ! (leans tack). What a lucky fellow I am ! I never 
thought I could have got through it so easily, or I'd have done it 
long ago, and not been a miserable, moping old bachelor all this 
time. I declare, it seems like a dream ! — and — look here ! (start- 
ing up) — it can't be possible that I've been asleep while I've 
been sitting here, and that it is all a dream ! I — I declare, I'm 



SYKES'S PREDICAMENT. 95 

afraid it is ! I guess when she comes in I'll ask her over again, 
so as to make sure. It won't do any harm ; and if I should have 
been dreaming — I feel kind of queer and sleepy, that's a fact — 
anyhow, it'll sound just as nice to hear her say "yes" again; 
and I can tell her how it was, afterward, if she wants to know. 

Enter Melinda, softly. 

Melinda {gasping). Mr. Sykes, I declare ! waiting for me, I 
dare say ; and disappointed at the delay, no doubt, poor fellow ! 
he looks kind of .downcast. I'll box that good-for-nothing Susan's 
ears, for not telling me he was here — the hussy ! I won't let 
him know I'm here yet, though. I'll just glide in and sit down 
by the window and see whether he'll notice me, and what he'll 
do ! {goes over to window). 

Sykes {catching a glimpse of her as she passes). There she 
comes again ; the darling ! and going off by the window, too ! 
how strange ! Ah ! I guess I know what that means ! she's 
playing shy, and wants me to kiss her again! That's it, sure 
enough ! and I'll do it, too ; -I declare I will ! I feel bold as a 
lion now, and ready for anything ! 
— {approaching softly, bends down and Jcisses her.) 

Melinda {screams). Oh, Mr. Sykes ! 

Jeremiah. Don't be afraid, Miss Simpson; it's only me ! 

Melinda {affecting anger). Only you, indeed ! How dare you 
take such a liberty ! I never heard of such a thing in my life ! 

Jeremiah {alarmed). You — you — ain't offended, Miss Simp- 
son? I didn't mean— I — {attempts to rise). 

Melinda {catching his hand). Stay, Mr. Sykes ! I — I ain't 
offended ! only it was so sudden ! 

Jeremiah. Oh, that was all, eh ? "Well, you've no need to be 
shy now, you know, Miss Simpson ! I wasn't quite sure whether 
I was right about it, so I thought I'd be certain. Tell me, my 
dear one, that I have not been laboring under a hallucination ! 
Do you really love me ? 

Melinda {aside). Ah, ha ! who's the attraction now? {aloud) 
Love you ? Oh, Jeremiah ! I love you now, and I'll love you 
forever. How could you doubt it ? 

Jeremiah. Well, I didn't exactly doubt it ; only I've been so 
tumbled up and down in my mind this last few hours that I can 
hardly be sure of anything. So you really love me ? 

Melinda {bashfully). Devotedly, Jeremiah ! 

Jeremiah. And so do I ! I declare to gracious I never loved 
anybody so much before ! And you are quite willing to become 
Mrs. Sykes? 

Melinda {sighing). More than willing to do anything that will 
advance your happiness, Jeremiah ! I'll fix the day whenever 
you please. 



96 STKES'S PREDICAMENT. 

Jeremiah. My angel ! give me a kiss, then, to make certain ! 
(hisses her). 

Melinda (disengaging herself). Let mc go for a few moments, 
Jeremiah, to get my embroidery, and then 1 will return to yon! 
I make it a rale never to allow a moment to pass unoccupied by 
some useful employment, and now when I am about to— to— 
assume so important a responsibility as matrimony, I must be 
still more industrious! I will be back immediately. 

Jeremiah. One moment. You won't say anything about this 
to your sisters or friends for awhile, you know ! I don't want it 
told uutil I get a little more used to it. 

Melinda. Certainly, my Jeremiah. Nobody shall know until 
you wish them to. And you'll be faithful to me? 

Jeremiah. Nobody shall ever win my heart from you, my 
adorable ! No one can be so desirable in my eyes ! In a little 
while there will be a wedding that will draw half the village ; 
so hurry and get ready for it. 

Melinda (coquettishly). Now you must let me go for a few 
moments ! I'll be back immediately, (at door — aside). I knew 
I was right ! Perhaps when the girls hear this they will believe 
there was some significance in Jeremiah's walking home with 
me from the post-office the other day ! I was a little quick in 
accepting him, but it was best to clinch the matter before he got 
frightened and took it all back ; for the poor fellow is so bashful, 
that if I hadn't said "yes" right away, he might have taken it 
as a refusal ! I wonder what Jerusha and Alvina will say now ? 
I'll make them stand around and be respectful, I can tell them! 

[Exit 

Jeremiah. I've done it, sure, this time ! It was an awful 
ordeal, but I got through it, thank fortune ! I wish I could get 
up courage enough to ask her to open the shutters so that I could 
see her better. Til try to manage it before I leave. And I de- 
clare I haven't asked her name yet ! Hang it all ! I don't know 
what there is about women, but I'm as afraid of 'em as I can 
be ! it's a wonder I got up spunk enough to kiss her ! But she 
wasn't looking at me then ; if she ever makes me look straight at 
her, I'm afraid I'll sink right through the floor ! 

Enter Alvina. 

Alvina. Did I ever ! Mr. Sykes here ! and come to see me, 
of course ! The dear man ! I know his errand well enough ! 
(advances into the room.) 

Alvina. Waiting for me, Mr. Sykes ? Did the time seem long ? 

Jeremiah (bewildered). Well, no— yes— I— that is— you see — 
I may say — 

Alvina (sitting down by him). Don't be afraid of me, Mr. 
Sykes ! we're such good friends, you know ! What can I do for 
you ? Let me know, do ; I'd be most happy — 



SYKES's PREDICAMENT. 97 

Jeremiah. I've got all mixed again ! Are you sure— sure— 
perhaps I'm wrong, but I had a sort of dim recollection that — 
that some little time ago, you gave me to understand — 

Alvina (aside). He's going to propose! the angel! He 
means, of course, that day he spoke to me over the gate ! (aloud) 
Understand what, Mr. SyJies? 

Jeremiah. That you — you entertained a sort of— of admiration, 
or, I may say— affinity for me, and would be willing to become 
— become— 

Alvina (throwing herself into his arms). Oh, Jeremiah ! is 
that what you have come to say ? Do you think I could for a 
moment refuse ? 

JEREMiAn. Then it is all right ? And Fm correct in supposing 
you'll — you'll have me ? 

Alvina. Of course you're right ! Didn't I try to — to — prove 
to you that I loved you? Can't you be sure without being told 
over and over again? 

Jeremiah. Well, I thought so ! but I got so confused! How- 
ever, 111 be sure, this time ! So you're all ready to become Mrs. 
Sykes? 

Alvina (blushing). It won't take me long to get ready. But 
are you sure that you love me better than either of my sisters, 
Jeremiah ? 

Jeremiah. Of course I am ! I wouldn't give a fig for all the 
rest of creation, my adorable ! You are the idol of my heart, 
and— 

Jerusha (bursting in). Is, eh? and that's what you call hon- 
orable conduct ? 

Melinda. Ton wouldn't, eh? and that is all your promises are 
good for? 

Jerusha (screams). Love me better than any one else in the 
world ! 

Melinda (shrieks). .Never loved anybody so before ! 

Jerusha. Don't say anything about it!— oh! you deceiving 
wretch ! 

Melinda. Don't mention our engagement until I get a little 
used to it ! — oh ! you unfaithful scoundrel ! 

Alvina (suddenly comprehending). "Wouldn't give a fig for 
anybody but you ! — you villain ! 

Enter Susan, unperceived. 

Jeremiah (in bewilderment). I — I don't understand ! What 
— what is it that I've been doing ? 

Jerusha. You told me that 1 was the only one you cared for ! 

Melinda. You implored me to become Mrs. Sykes ! 

Alvin a (shaking 'her fist). You told me to hurry up and get 
ready for the wedding ! 

Susan (aside). Isn't he in a precious pickle ! He won't know 



98 STZKS'S PREDICAMENT. 

whether he stands on his head or his heels by the time they get 
through with him ! 

Jeremiah (aghast). I— I think you must be mistaken, ladies - ! 
I only — 

Jerusha {sputtering). You only entered the abode of three 
innocent females, like a sheep in the night, or a thief among 
wolves ! and taking advantage of the fact that } r ou only saw one 
of us at a time, deluded us all into the belief that you never did 
or could care for any one else ! 

Jeremiah (eagerly). But, my dear Miss Simpson, I wasn't !— 

Melinda. Oh, no ! of course you wasn't ! Deceivers like you 
always have plenty of excuses to fall back on, when they are 
found out ! But these are the days of freedom and justice, Mr. 
Sykes, and you'll not get off so easy! entangling our affections 
in this style was very nice fun for you, no doubt ! very honorable 
conduct ! Just what we might expect from Mr. Sykes ! 

Jeremiah. But, ladies, if you'll only listen to me— 

Alvina (ironically). I think we've listened to you quite long 
enough ! We've hail too many of your deceiving speeches, alto- 
gether ! 

Jeremiah (clutching his hair frantically). For goodness' 
sake, ladies, tell me, lohich one I have been malcing love to ! 

Jerusha (shrilly). To me ! and I thought you meant what 
you said ! 

Melinda (scornfully). To me ! and I was fool enough to listen 
to you ! 

Alvina (our sting into tears'). To me ! and all the time you 
were engaged to the other two ! 

Susan (aside). How he is getting it, poor fellow! — There ! I 
know what I will do ! 

Jeremiah (turning to Jerusha). Miss Simpson, I crave— 

Jerusha (irately). It's too late to crave anything ! You've 
brought your own punishment upon you, and now you must bear 
it alone ! 

Jeremiah (confronting Melinda). Miss Simpson, I implore 
you, have — 

Melinda (Utterly). Have a constable in here ! That is what 
I've a great mind to have ! Your villainy has been discovered, 
sir ! all attempts at further concealment are fruitless ! 

Jeremiah (approaching Alvina). Miss Simpson, let me en- 
treat— 

Alvina (scornfully). I dare say ! entreat me to be fooled by 
you again ! You've showed your cloven foot too plainly, Mr. 
Sykes ! there is no use in trying to pull the wool over my eyes 
any longer ! 
— (Sykes whirls around distractedly.) 

Jeremiah (in sepulchral tones). It's you that have been de- 
ceiving me ! You made your confounded parlor so dark that I 



SYKES'S PEEDICAMENT. 99 

could not see a bit ! and then each of you pretended to be the 
other one ! 

The Misses Simpson (in chorus). You good-for-nothing wretch! 
You knew very well who each one was ! And you made us 
promise not to tell each other, so that you could deceive us all ! 

Alvina (stepping tip and shaking her fist at him). I'll take 
good care that you don't have an opportunity to try your nefar- 
ious game on any other, alas ! too confiding damsel, sir ! 

Melinda (imitating her). I'll denounce you as a deceiver and 
a scoundrel all through the town ! You shall be placarded on 
the fences ! You shall be reported in the newspapers ! 

Jerusha (following suit). You shall be taught that you can- 
not tamper with our affections and break our hearts thus, with 
impunity, sir ! You shall pay for this ! I'll bring a breach of 
promise suit against you! that I will! 

Jeremiah (frantically). For mercy's sake, where's my hat? 

Susan (stepping forward). A pretty pickle you've got your- 
self into, Mr. Sykes ! But it can be mended yet ! 

Jeremiah (looking at her, amazed). How ! What do you 
mean? 

Susan. Why, they aren't the only people in the world, are 
they ? What makes you in such a hurry to get your hat ? 

Jerusha. You impertinent vixen ! 

Jeremiah (moving a little nearer to Susan). What can I do ? 
Tell me, I implore you ! 

Susan (tossing lier head). Why, you haven't asked me, yet ! 

Alvina (gasping). The audacious minx ! 

Jeremiah. You! 

Susan (saucily). To be sure ! why not? Just wait till you 
see how good-looking I am ! (opens window) — There ! and I 
wouldn't mind being Mrs. Sykes, a bit ! (with a mock courtesy). 
— ( Hie Misses Simpson stand speech less. Sykes looks admir- 
ingly at Susan. 

Jeremiah. Why, you are a pretty little creature, I declare ! 

Susan (piquanily). Of course I am ! Don't my glass tell me 
so every day? It seems a pity that you should go away disap- 
pointed when there is such balm as this in Gilead ! (holds up her 
lips) — and I'm a splendid hand at making bread and pies, and 
know all about housekeeping ! 

Jeremiah (brigh tening). You're sure this is you? and that 
you won't turn out after a while to be somebody else? 

Susan {laughing). Oh, indeed I am ! I didn't come by the 
gross, I assure you ! All there is of me. you see now ! 

Jeremiah (catching her in his arms). And you'll have me, 
you darling? 

Susan. "Well— yes, I don't care if I do ! It would be to bad 
to subject you to another refusal ! 

Jerusha (shrilly). I forbid the bans ! 



100 SYKES's PREDICAMENT. 

Alvina, I'll send a note to the minister exposing your char- 
acter, sir ! 

Melinda. Leave the room this instant, you presuming hussy ! 
Ton shall be kept on bread and water for a week ! 

Susan (with mock humility). Yes, ma'am I— (to Sykes). and 
I flatter myself you won't do much worse than if you had suc- 
ceeded in capturing one of the " three Graces" there! And 
now you had better go before they scratch your eyes out! 
They're awful when they get started, I can assure you ! 

Jeremiah (kissing her). Tell me first, my darling girl, when 
you'li be my wife? 

Susan. Just as soon as you please; as soon as I can get a 
wedding-dress made ! I won't dare to remain here after what 
I've done to-day, for if those " Graces " get hold of me I wouldn't 
have a spear of hair left by morning ! 

Jeremiah. Good gracious ! I'm thankful that I didn't get any 
of them ! I thought they were angels ! 

Susan. Humph ! Swamp angels ! If you only knew what 
I've gone through here, and how glad I am to get away from 
them ! 

Alvina. If you don't leave my house this instant, sir, I'll call 
a policeman and have you forcibly ejected ! And you, Miss, off 
to your room ! I'll attend to you by and by, and teach you to 
come interfering in other people's concerns ! 

Susan (couriesying). Thank you, ma'am, for your kind inten- 
tions ! I shall try to be grateful ! It's sour grapes now, sure ! 
Tm going to be Mrs. Sykes, after all, in spite of your signs and 
presentiments, and "beaux in the candles," and spirit photo- 
graphs, and all the rest of the stuff I've heard you saying to your- 
self so often ! 

Jeremiah. Yes, indeed, my darling; and without any more 
delay than is absolutely necessary. I'm glad I came over here 
this afternoon, after all ; for though I got into trouble, you have 
got me out of it, and given me your own dear little self into the 
bargain. You finish, now. 

Susan. You see, Jeremiah, there's nothing like persevering, 
even though you do meet with obstacles; for it's sure all to come 
right in the end. (to audience), and you will, kind friends, I 
have no doubt, rejoice with me, that I have, by a little woman's 
diplomacy, reduced to its present smooth and satisfactory state, 
the tangled threads of Sykes's Predicament. 

Jeremiah and TJie "Three Graces," l, 

Susan, r. | with their fingers in their ears. 

CURTAIN. 



PITY THE POOR BLIND! 

A MONOLOGUE 
BY A BLIND MAN— THAT IS A PROFESSIONAL BLIND MAN. 



SCENE.— A street corner. TJw blind man seated on a stool at 
the comer.— Over his head a placard, inscribed. "Peter, 
the blind man— who went blind for love— Paul— his son-in- 
law and successor.'' 

Paul (pointing to the placard). Paul— that's me ! Peter is 
my father-in-law. 1 married his daughter — a dear, kind creature, 
but homely ! you never saw such a homely girl— at least— that's 
what they tell me. Of course, when I married her, I went it 
blind. That makes no difference to me. In fact, it is an advan- 
tage — no one will run away with her for her beauty — I am suc- 
cessor to Peter— my father-in-law. I bought his business— bought 
him out— What business ? do you ask ?— Why, the blind man's 
business— this corner— it's a good, steady and profitable business. 
My dog carries the basket in his mouth and people drop pennies 
into it— some do— some don't —it depends on the weather, and 
on the time of year— when they don't wear gloves. 

Perhaps you would like to know what I am driving at— I'll tell 
you — I have a project— an idea — that will make all your daugh- 
ters ready to hug me with delight— a splendid idea- 
Trust a blind man for carrying out an idea ! You who can 
see— everything you see — every buzzing fly, distracts your atten- 
tion — but I, Paul, the blind man, can sit and think and think — 
nothing disturbs me — I can go right to my purpose and carry it 
out— You see, I am not like most professional blind men — I am 
blind. — Tou can find plenty of blind men in the streets, begging 
— I never beg — I am a blind man who cannot see-^ 

But, to return to my purpose — I don't mean- to set up a matri- 
monial lottery— or anything of the sort — no — no — marriages are 
so different — take my father-in-law — for instance, twenty years 
ago he had a splendid pair of eyes — He fell desperately in love 
with a young milliner's apprentice, livingin a small house in a 
small street. She was learning how to make incomprehensible 
bonnets and impossible trimmings sixteen hours a day in a top- 
floor den of a room. This charming young milliner came acci- 
dentally into the world about eighteen years before — her mother 
had been playing as supernumerary for about twenty years at 
different theatres— When her baby was born, there was a piece 
101 



102 PITY THE POOR BLIND. 

having an immense vnn, and she named her baby after it— "Mal- 
vina, or the Final Reparation." Poor Malvina needed some re- 
pairs right away, for she was horn blind of one eye. 

When Malvina was just eighteen years old, Peter — that's my 
father-in-law -was in high spirits— very high— he was just en- 
gaged in whitewashing the front of the 'small house in the small 
street, aforesaid. He was silting on a stick, tied to the end of a 
cord, suspended from the eave hoards of the roof; and as he 
white washed, he caught sight, through the top of an open win- 
dow, of a lovely girl, who was dressing herself— Peter, in his 
astonishment, dropped his brush which made a great white star 
on the pavement below, and cried out — " Oh ! what a lovely 
girl!"' She, half scared, slung a sheet around her and screamed — 
"■ Oh ! what a handsome man ! Peter slipped down his rope in- 
stantly and sitting on the window sill — he said, "My dear Miss 
— excuse my abrupt entrance, without ringing the bell, but the 
sight of your beauty so paralysed me that I should have fallen 
and killed myself, unless I found a secure place to save me. 
Surely you would not wish to cause my death !" 

The way he dropped in that window made Malvina laugh so — 
that she laughed and couldn't do anything else for a day and a 
half. Mind you —Malvina was blind of one eye — I said so before 
— but it is important. 

My father-in-law courted that girl, assiduously, ardently, per- 
severingly, for three months ; then he offered her his hand and 
heart. 

Malvina blushed — turned away her face, and said — '* My friend 
— do not think of such a thing. To-day, love makes you blind — 
see — I have only one eye — to-morrow you will be throwing my 
one eye in my face. Three eyes for two people are not enough — " 

"If I were blind of one eye— would you marry me then ?" said 
Peter. 

' ' No— no " — she said, " I never will marry any one but a blind 
man." 

That evening Peter bought a tin cup and a dog— but Malvina 
had moved away — thus Peter became blind for love ! After- 
wards he hired the privilege of sitting at this corner, where he 
has been so many years. 

The opening of that new street over the way was the founda- 
tion of Peter's fortune. He had a lease of this corner for twenty 
years, drawn up, signed and recorded in the County Clerk's 
office. The corner was needed for opening the nevr street. 
Peter demanded a thousand dollars damages— The city would 
not pay it — Peter sued them— The street commissioners, anxious 
to complete the job, offered him a hundred dollars— Peter was 
inflexible— It came before a jury, who awarded him seven dollars 
and a half— that was the corner-stone of his fortune — he bought 
a clarinette. 



PITY THE POOR BLIND. 103 

Of course, at that price, the clarinette was not a masterpiece — 
but that didn't matter— it was the way he managed it— Instead 
of "Pity the poor blind!" every ten seconds— he would play 
" Yankee Doodle " or something else on his clarinette, aud the 
pennies came fast. Then, when business on his corner slacked 
off, he would go into the principal streets aud play — he was the 
first blind man who tried to play Wagner's music, and people 
gave him double to go away. At last Peter thus amassed enough 
to aspire to the hand other who became afterwards my mother- 
in-law — She was the only daughter of the greatest rag-picker of 
the day. Why do you smile ? My ears are wonderfully acnte — 
of course I can't see you. Some rag-pickers are quite different 
from others. The refuse of the Fifth Avenue is a different thing 
from what you pick up in Baxter Street. If you were rag-pick- 
er;: 1 , you would know the difference in a moment. The daughter 
was called Sidou because she was never known to tire. Her 
marriage portion was the west side of Fifth Avenue — from the 
Park down to Thirty-fourth Street — a fortune— She worked that 
mine of wealth for eighteen years, and then retired, to devote 
the remainder of her life to the welfare of her husband and 
numerous children — 

She still continued, as was her custom, to lead her Peter to 
his corner in the morning, and bring him home in the evening — 
she knew what a help it was to her husband for the public to 
witness her daily devotion and his pitiable helplessness- At last 
he joined her in her retirement. They took up their abode on 
his farm. Yes, he had bought a smajl farm — and when Sunday 
came, lie rested from his labors, and instructed bis boys how to be 
blind men, while she gave her girls practical lessons in rag- 
piokiug. 

Bat I have wandered away from my main object — Now for it — 
Ladies and gentlemen — take my advice- don't teach your 
daughters this, that and the other, that half the girls you meet 
can do, and do better, perhaps— My advice is this — teach your 
dear girls to play the clarinette — that will be a new attraction — 
You have no idea what pathos — what protestations of undying 
love— and what a tremolo of heart-breaking sighs can be breathed 
through the deep and mellow notes, and what agonizing and 
despairing shrieks of unrequited affection thrill out of the higher 
register. See that you get an instructor that can teach "the 
dear girls how to give expression to the music of the heart— 
I am yours — Paul — yours to command to instruct them in the 
art — I am always to be found on this comer — Now — it is time to 
go home — I see my wife coming, so I will go to meet her — (rises, 
walks off saying), " Pity the poor blind I" 



TOO CLEVER BY HALF. 

A COMEDIETTA. 



CBAEAC TEES 

Laura Fane. Mr. Smith. 

Aunt Jerusha Brown. Mr. Wilson. 



SCEXE I. — A lady's boudoir. Laura seated with embroidery. 
Enter Aunt Jerusha. 

Aunt Jerusha. "Whatever in the world is the matter with 
you, Laura, that you come poking off here by yourself all the 
time. I ain't had a sight of you since breakfast! The minute 
the things is cleared away, you come post haste up here and shut 
yourself in as if you was one of them girls I used to read about 
in " Grimm's Household Tales " an' the "Arabian Fights," and 
you was afeared somebody'd come an' run off with you ! What's 
the trouble? 

Laura. 0, nothing ! nothing ! only I want to be alone ! 

Aunt Jerusha {seating herself). Now you needn't say "no- 
thing, nothing," and think I'm going to be put off in that way ! 
Something is the matter with you, I know ; young gals don't go 
poking off by themselves for nothing. Mother used, to say to 
father— she was a wonderful 'cute hand to spy out such things, 
mother was, and they do say I take after her ; but though I 
don't pretend to be so wonderful smart, I can see through a hole 
when there's a millstone in it — no ! that ain't exactly it— but 
never mind ; mother used to say to father : Hezekiah, just as 
soon as you catch one of our gals poking off by herself and want- 
ing to be alone, just look out for somebody a hangin' over the 
garden gate of evenings ! It's just as sure as the measles ! And 
so it was, but I'm thankful I didn't give her any worry on that 
score — I always stayed in the house and kept stiddy to my work. 
But I can read the signs just as well! And your eyes are red, 
too. What is it ? 

Laura (pettishly). Oh, do go away, Aunt Jerry, and don't 
bother me ! 

Aunt Jerusha (offended). Well, that's a nice way to treat 
your aunt, I must say ! after my taking the trouble to come up 
two pair of stairs — an' it ain't such easy work to climb 'era, 

104 



TOO CLEVER BY HALF. 105 

either, on your account when a body's bones are getting stiff — 
although Deacon Parker did say yesterday that I didn't appear a 
day older than when he saw me last, ten years ago ; nor 1 ain't 
so very old, nuther, only my rheumatics is troublesome. If 
that's all your respect, HI Lave nothing to do with you ! 

Lattra (sodding). Oh, Aunt Jerry ! if you knew how miser- 
able I am you wouldn't want to make it any worse by scolding 
me! 

Aunt Jerusha (sitting down by Iter). Well, then, I won't, 
dear ! Tell your Aunt Jerry all about it ! you always was my 
pet, you know, and perhaps I can help you. I always was 
clever at such things from a child. In fact, some of 'em used to 
say that I was " too clever, by half" — but then that's all the 
gratitude you can expect from some people ! just as soon as 
you've helped them out of their troubles, and they don't need 
your services any longer, then they are very ready to turn 
around and make fun of you ! But I'm doing all the talking! 
Tell me what the trouble is, and we'll see if your Aunt Jerry 
can't help you out of it. Come now, begin. 

Laura. Well, then, Aunt Jerry, to begin with, you know that 
for some time back George Smith and Frank Wilson have been 
coming to see me, and — 

Aunt Jerusha. Sparking ! yes, I know ! I told your mother 
the wind wasn't blowing for nothing, when I was down here be- 
fore. And very nice young men they are, too, both of them. 

Laura. For goodness' sake, don't say loth of them, Aunt 
Jerry ! I am sure anyone with a particle of taste could see that 
there is nothing to admire in Frank "Wilson ! Now, George is a 
darling ! but Frank I always did and always shall detest ! 

Aunt Jerusha (reprovingly). Laura, Laura, these wicked 
city ways is a spoiling you, I'm afraid! I often tell your mother 
she oughtn't never to have moved from Plumtown, where the 
girls used to grow up so nice and stiddy ! How often have I 
told you, Laura, how" very improper it is for a young lady to ex- 
press herself in that violent way ; especially of her gentlemen 
friends. My mother would have shut me up for a week on 
bread and water, if I had talked that way when I was a gal. 
But folks ain't so strict now as they used to be ! 

Laura. Well, I can't help it, Aunt Jerry ! I'm all out of 
sorts and just as miserable as possible ! 

Aunt Jerusha. Well, never mind then, dear ! I didn't mean 
to scold you ! I'll excuse you this time. Go on. 

Laura. Well, I've been polite to them both; of course I had 
to ; but although I'm sure I haven't given him any reason to 
suppose that it would be agreeable, Mr. Wilson has asked me to 
be his wife — 

Aunt Jerusha (interrupting). Sensible young man ! 
r Laura^ That may be your opinion, Aunt Jerry, but it's not 



106 TOO CLEVER BY HALF. 

mine, x can tell you ! I said once that I detested the man, and 
I tny it again ! 

Aunt Jerusha. "Why, I'm astonished, Laura, to hear you 
express such an opinion' of Mr. Wilson I I consider him a very 
line young man ; a very line young man, indeed! 

Laura. I dont, then ! He couldn't hold a candle to — 

Aunt Jerusha. But it's your duty, Laura, to — 

Laura [vexed). Well, I see there's no use in trying to talk to 
you, Aunt Jerry ! i'll keep my love affairs to myself, and not 
trouble you about them ! . 

Aunt Jerusha. Oh, yes, do tell me about it, dear! I won't 
say another word against it if it vexes you. But I should think 
you would like him. 

Laura. "Well, I don't, and that's all about it! This Frank 
Wilson, as I say, after nearly driving me to distraction by hang- 
ing around me all the evening, managed to get me by myself, 
and made his absurd proposal to me. 

AtJWT Jerusha {innocently). And you accepted him? 

Laura. Accepted him? What are you thinking of, Aunt 
Jerry ? I guess not ! I gave him a refusal, and a pretty sharp 
and decided one, too, I can tell you ! But in spite of it all, not 
three days ago he managed to secure another opportunity, and 
asked me again ! 

Aunt Jerusha. Quite a hero ! Faint heart never won fair 
lady! 

Laura. I don't believe he owns such an article as a heart ! 
but if he had a dozen of them, they wouldn't be of any avail in 
helping him to win this fair lady ! So, although I've refused 
him twice, and he must see, if he's got any sense at all, that I 
can't endure the sight of him, he keeps on coming and inflicting 
his company on me ! 

Aunt Jerusha {ivith interest). Yes ? and — 

Laura {blushing). ISTow, there's George ; as nice a young man 
as ever breathed ! and I Jcnoiv he likes me as well as I do him ; 
but the poor fellow is so bashful that he won't speak, although 
I'm sure I'd say "yes " to him, without a moment's hesitation! 

Aunt Jerusha {sympathizingly). Dear me, it's too bad! but 
never mind ! perhaps he'll come to the point some time ! Have 
a little patience ! it will all come out right in the end. The 
course of true love never did run smooth, you know ! 

Laura. Our love must be true, then, for there doesn't appear 
to be the remotest chance of its running smooth — at present at 
any rate. But I'm not so sure that it will come out right in the 
end, for father declares — (stops, and begins to cry). 

Aunt Jerusha. Declares what, dear? what is it? 

Laura. Why, he declares that he won't have my beaux dang- 
ling around in this way any longer; that it's high time I was 
settled in life ; and that the nextf time either of them asks me, I 



TOO CLEVER BY HALF. 107 

must accept him, no matter which one it is ! Did you ever hear 
anything so dreadful ! It will just kill me to have to say ' ' yes " 
to that odious Frank, and yet there doesn't seem to be any help 
for it ! Oh, dear ! if George would only speak now ! 

Aunt Jerusha. Dear ! dear ! that's a bad state of affairs, I 
do declare ! but don't give up yet, dear ! Perhaps I can help 
y>u out of your trouble. I. always was clever at such things 
from a child ! 

Laura {looking up). Do you think you can? Oh, Aunt Jerry, 
if you could only find some way to help me out of this awful 
muddle, and bring matters straight for me, I'll love you as long 
as I live ! How do you think you can manage it? Tell me 
quick, do, and not keep me in suspense ! 

Aunt Jerusha (sagely). Have patience, and you will find 
out ! You young critters are always in such a dreadful hurry, 
especially when you're in love ! Koine wasn't built in a day ! 
Let me see ! you love this FranJc to distraction — 

Laura. Oh, dear, no ! I can't abide him ! 

Aunt Jerusha. Oh! I thought it was the other one you 
hated so ! 

Laura. I declare, Aunt Jerry, if you aren't enough to try the 
temper of a saint ! I told you— 

Aunt Jerusha (interrupting). "Well, there, don't get into a 
tantrum ! I only got it a little mixed ; but it's all right now. 
Tou love this FranJc — no — George — to distraction ! Have I got 
it right now ? 

Laura (playing with her apron). Well, you needn't put it 
quite so strong as that, Aunt Jerry ! I — ■ 

Aunt Jerusha. Tou think a good deal of him, then — the nice 
feller, vou know — and would have him if he should ask you ! Is 
that it ? 

Laura. Yes, that's right, Aunt Jerry. 

Aunt Jerrya Now for another question. When are these two 
young fellers coining to see you again ? 

Laura. I expect them both to-day. Oh ! I do hope George 
will come first ! I shall certainly send down word that I am not 
at home if the other horrid creature does ! 

Aunt Jerusha. JSTo ! you needn't do that, either ! For whether 
he does or not, I'll tell you what I'll do. I've made up a plan, 
and I can manage it real clever, too. Do you want to hear it ? 

Laura (impatiently). Of course I want to hear it! Don't 
keep me waiting so ! They may be here at any time ! 

Aunt Jerusha. Well, when they come, suppose I go down 
and see them first, and then if he— the bashful feller, you know 
—comes first, I can just give him a hint of the way matters 
stand, and call you down, so that you can have matters all fixed 
between you before the other one comes. 

Laura. Yes, that's very nice; but suppose "other one" 



108 TOO CLEVER BY HALF. 

comes first? it would bo just like him, too, bother him! hes 
always poking himself where he isn't wanted — how will you do 
then! • 

Aunt Jerry. Ah ! what do you say, my dear? 

Laura. I say, suppose the " other one'' comes first? 

Aunt Jerusha. "Who? George? 

Laura (angrily). When will you get it right, Aunt Jerry ! I 
only wish George would come first ! But suppose he doesn't — 
suppose that abominable Frank comes poking along first, how 
then ? 

Aunt Jerusha. Oh ! I understand you now ! If the one you 
don't like comes first, I'll just let him kuow there's no use in him 
coming here any longer, and send him off with a flea in his 
ear. Trust me to mauage that ! it isn't the first love affair I've 
had to do with in my day ! and I've always brought them out 
right, and given perfect satisfaction ! I'll take the entire man- 
agement and responsibility on my shoulders ; and you shall have 
the lover you want, or it won't be Aunt Jerry's fault ! 

Laura. Aunt Jerry, so sure as you help rue out of this trouble, 
I'll think you're the best creature that ever lived ! 

Aunt Jerusha. You may begin to think so right away, then, 
my dear, for I never fail in any of my expectations. No wonder 
I felt as if I was needed down here, and so made up my mind to 
come right away and see you, and not wait till Christmas for my 
visit as I intended to do before. You see your Aunt Jerry didn't 
leave Plumtown a moment too soon ! If I'd delayed a week 
longer you'd have been plunged into everlastin' wretchedness. 
But it isn't too late, thank goodness ! 

Laura. Well, Aunt Jerry, hadn't you better go down now, 
and sit in the parlor till they come ? 

Aunt Jerusha. Yes, that's a good idea, Laura. It will be 
better to have some one ready to receive them. And then, when 
its all right and the one you like is here, I'll call you, and you 
can come right down and — well, I suppose I needn't tell you 
what else to do— lovers generally find that out for themselves ! 

Laura (blushing). Oh, hush, Aunt Jerry ! anyhow, I'll do as 
you say. So go down, and I'll listen for your call. 

[Aunt Jerusha goes to door, and exit. A moment after opens 
door and looks in. 

Aunt Jerusha. I've — I've got it a little mixed, Laura ! Let's 
see ; Frank is the nice feller, isn't he ? 

Laura (stamping her foot angrily). Oh, good gracious! good 
gracious, Aunt Jerry ! you'll spoil everything, yet! If you men- 
tion Frank Wilson's name tome again, I shall go into hysterics! 

Aunt Jerusha (hastily). Well, never mind, never mind, 
Laura ! Don't be excited; I've got it all right now. 

[Exit Aunt Jerusha. 



TOO CLEVER BY HALF. 109 

SCENE U.— Parlor. Aunt Jerusha discovered with knitting. 

Aunt Jerusha {settling herself complacently). That's what it 
is to have talents ! they're sure to bring one into notice, no mat- 
ter how modest and retiring one may be by disposition. Now, 
if I hadn't been clever. I might have been kneadmg dough, or 
ehurnin' up in Plumtowu, instead of sitting here to take charge 
of this business, and make this matter all straight for my niece. 
Poor child ! no wonder she got excited when I mentioned Frank's 
name to her ; young girls are apt to feel wrought up and nervous 
when a feller hangs off so persistently as he has been doing ! It 
don't hardly seem like him, either, to do so ; if it had been the 
other one, now, I shouldn't be so much surprised. And I had 
an idea, first, from the way she talked, that' it was Mr. Smith 
that she was a hankerin' after ; but .Laura's a sensible girl, and 
knows how to make a wise choice ; and Mr. "Wilson is a young 
man entirely after my own heart ! It's well I went back and 
asked her, for I might have gone and encouraged the wrong one, 
and then she would have felt awful ! But there's no danger of 
any mistake now ! 
{a knock at the door.) 

Aunt Jerusha {adjusting her spectacles). Come in ! 

Enter Mr. Smith. 

Mr. Smith (bowing). Good afternoon, madam ! Is Miss Laura 
at home ? 

Aunt Jerusha {snappishly). Well, suppose she is; what 
.then? 

Mr. Smith. I would like to see her, if you please. 

Aunt Jerusha. What do you want to see her for? 

Mr. Smith {smiling). That matter I can best make known to 
the young lady herself ! 

Aunt Jerusha. Well, it will be a long time before you get a 
chance to make it known then ! you've pestered the poor child 
with your attentions long enough ! 

Mr. Smith (in surprise). Pestered her with my attentions ! I 
don't understand — 

Aunt Jerusha (interrupting). Yes, pestered her with your 
attentions ! and if you hadn't been so awfully dumb, you might 
have seen long ago that your room was better than your com- 
pany ! 

Mr. Smith {aside). Well, really this is most remarkable ! 
Here for all this time that I have been visiting Miss Laura, I 
have in vain attempted to muster sufficient courage to make 
known to her my sentiments— sentiments which I felt I had 
some reason to hope were returned ; and now, when I have at 
last succeeded in nerving myself for the occasion, and have come 
to make known to her for the first time the feelings with which 



110 TOO CLEVEB BY HALF. 

she has inspired me, I am accused of persecuting her with my 
attentions ! It certainly is as astonishing as unexpected ! 

Aunt Jerusha. Well what are you standing there muttering 
to yourself for? Haven't I spoken plain enough? Can't you 
understand that you ain't wanted ? Why don't you budge ? 

Mr. Smith. But, really, Miss Jerusha, I don't think you — 

Aunt Jerusha. Oh, of course, you don't think I — you sup- 
pose I haven't got any eyes or ears, and don't know anything 
that's going on ! But you won't be the first one that's been mis- 
ta vimi ! I'm cleverer than folks think for at first sight, I can tell 
you ! 

Mr. Smith. But, Miss Brown, let me explain — 

Aunt Jerusha (tossing her head). Oh, I don't need any of 
your explanations ! I understand the whole matter from the 
Alfred to the Oneida /—if you understand Latin ! 

Mr. Smith {aside). I shouldn't think I did ! not such Latin as 
that ! Confound the meddlesome old creature ! (aloud). Miss 
Jerusha, I wish to see Miss Lama Fane ! 

Aunt Jerusha (snappishly). You do, eh? Well, you ain't 
agoin' to see her ! So there, now ! does that satisfy you ? 

Mr. Smith (with some vexation). But, madam, I insist — ■ 

Aunt Jerusha (regarding him sternly through her spectacles). 
Now just loot here, Mr. Smith ! I want you just to understand 
that I've taken that poor abused child's part, and I wouldn't 
budge an inch for all your talking, if you was to stand there till 
the crack's doom ! She's told me everything ! 

Mr. Smith. What things? I don't understand ! 

Aunt Jerusha (triumphantly). A good many things, I'd 
have you know, sir ! There I went into her room a little while 
ago, and I found the poor creature a cryin' fit to break her heart, 
and I asked her what the matter was, and she told me so how 
you two fellers had been a courtin' her, and how she loved one 
of you to distraction, but he was so bashful that he wouldn't 
speak, and she hated the t'other one worse'n Vinegar Bitter s } 
and he kept a pesterin' her all the time ; so that between the one 
she did want, and the one she didn't, she was almost driv to 
distraction ! 
— (s tops for oreafh) . 

Mr. Smith (aside). Ah, ha ! light begins to break at last ! 
And so she does care for me— the darling ! 

Aunt Jerusha. So after she had told me all her troubles, and 
I had asked her which one she liked and which she didn't, and 
then she told me that she expected both you young fellers to 
come here this very afternoon to see her, and that her pa said 
she must take the one that asked her first, no matter which it 
was, I offered to take charge of the matter for her. I always 
was clever at such things, from a child ! And I just want to tell 
you, sir, that I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself ! the 



TOO CLEVER BY HALF. Ill 

idea of your proposing to her three times, and she refusing you 
every time, and all for love of that poor, bashful feller, that 
you're keeping away, when she's perfectly dyin' to have liim 
pop the question to her ! Oh, I know all about it, I'll warrant 
you ! 

Mr. Smith (smiling). But really, madam, I — 

Aunt Jertjsha (leaving him off ). I don't want to hear a word ! 
I promised that poor persecuted lamb that I'd set matters straight 
for her, and I mean to keep my word ! She's my only niece, 
Mr. Smith, and I'm not going to see her bothered in this way. 
Are your walking-papers written out clear enough now ? 

Mr. Smith. Well, really, Miss Jerusha, I must say— 

Aunt Jerusha. You needn't attempt to say anything to me ! 
it'll all be a waste of breath ! I promised her I'd fix it, and so I 
will. I always was clever at such things, from a child— 
— (a knock is heard outside). 

Go right away ! this very minute, I tell you ! there's the t'other 
one coming, and I wouldn't have him see you here for the world ! 

Mr. Smith (aside). Ah ! you are clever, Miss Jerry ! too 
clever, by half ! but you've done me good service, for you have, 
although unwittingly, told me the very thing I was most anxious 
to know — that the deep affection I have long felt for my darling 
Laura, is returned, and that the attentions of Frank Wilson, as I 
had hardly dared to hope, are distasteful to her. I must stay 
here now and see this through, and assure her that I was the 
first applicant. And when we are once more happy, Aunt Jerry, 
I'll reward your diplomacy and cleverness with such a kiss as I'll 
warrant never saluted your cheek before ! see if I don't ! 

Aunt Jerusha. How long are you going to stand there ? 
H'aint I told you that the t'other one is coming? 

Mr. Smith (aside, looking around). Where can I conceal 
myself? Ah ! here behind the sofa is a good place ! My Laura 
will forgive my eaves dropping, for "all is fair in love and war !" 
— (creeps behind sofa). 

Enter Frank Wilson. 

Aunt Jerusha (with animation). Good afternoon, Mr. Wil- 
son ! walk right in and take a seat, do ! I'm very happy to see 
you ! very happy, indeed ! 

Mr. Wilson. Good afternoon, madam ! (aside). What has 
caused this sudden revolution in my favor, I wonder? 

Aunt Jerusha. Make yourself at home, Mr. Wilson ! It's a 
lovely day, isn't it? 

Mr. Wilson, Beautiful ! beautiful ! Is Miss .Laura at home? . 

Aunt Jerusha. To be sure she is. At home, and waiting 
very anxiously for some one to call ! I tried to induce the dear 
child to go out for a walk ; she's been looking so pale and out of 
spirits this two or three days ; but she wouldn't stir a step, for 



112 TOO CLEVER BY HALE, 

fear she shouldn't be back in time, and so disappoint— somebody 
she wanted very much to see ! 

Mr. Wilson (aside). My reception will be very different from 
what it has been this last two or three times, then ! But I 
thought I could overcome her coquettishness eventually— (aloud). 
Can I see her, Miss Brown '! 

Aunt Jerusha. I guess so ; she always is very much pleased 
with your society, Mr. Wilson ! But may I ask first, as a con- 
fidential friend, what the nature of your business with her is ? 

Mr. Wilson. Well, I don't mind telling you, Mis* Jerry! I 
wished to propound to her a certain question concerning — 

Aunt Jerusha {interrupting). Is that it? you dear man ! I'm 
sure she"ll come down to hear that! I'm dreadful glad you've 
made up your mind to speak at last. The dear chifd has been 
worried half to death with suspense and anxiety. 

Mr. Wilson. I am very glad to hear that my addresses to 
Miss Laura are likely to prove successful. But I have of late 
been under the impression that she did not regard me with — 

Aunt Jerusha (eagerly). That's all the fault of your being 
too bashful, Mr. Wilson! "Faint heart never won fair lady." 

Mr. Wilson. Yes, I know. But her deportment toward me 
of late has been rather cool and distant, and— 

Aunt Jerusha. Oh, that's only shyness and coquetry, Mr. 
Wilson! You ought to understand that! No young critter 
likes to show her lover just how much she thinks of him ! You 
ought to be bolder, and pop the question right out to her ! 

Mr. Smith (peeping around the corner of the sofa — aside). 
Oh, Aunt Jerry, what a diplomatist you are ! What will my 
poor Laura say when she comes down, I wonder ! How thank- 
ful I am that I came here first ! 

Mr. Wilson. Well, I have once or twice endeavored to indi 
cate to her the state of my feelings, but she always — 

Aunt Jerusha. That's because you wasn't decided enough ! 
All young gals like to be coaxed, don't you know that ? When 
she told me what a wonderful sight she thought of you, and how 
awful bad she felt because you didn't speak right out, and how 
afraid she was that you'd think because she acted shy toward 
you, that she didn't care for you, I offered to take matters into 
my own hands and fix it all nice for her. I always was clever 
at such things, from a child ! 

Mr. Wilson. Well, Miss Jerusha, I'm very glad that I had 
such an able advocate as yourself, and also that my devotion to 
Miss Lanva was, as I hoped, returned. And now, if you please, 
.1 would like to see her. 

Aunt Jerusha. Yes, I'll go and call her. And when she 
comes in, just rush right forward, and catch her in your arms, 
and give her a nice kiss. That will be the best way you could 
commence so as to break the ice effectually. 



TOO CLEVER BY HALF. 113 

Mr. "Wilson. I'll remember, Aunt Jerry ! 

(Aunt Jerusha rises and leaves the room. Mr. Wilson 
ivallcs up to the mirror and looks in, twirling his mustache.) 

— "Well, that is the first time I ever "was accused of being too 
bashful! but it takes all kinds of people and tastes to make the 
world ! I'm sure I thought I spoke plain enough the other da}-, 
when I asked her to have me ; but it might have been that she 
didn't understand me, or thought, perhaps, that I was only 
joking, and that was what made her so huffish. But I'll give 
her no occasion to complain on that score again ! (pauses and 
looks around). I didn't know but what possibly the atteutions 
of that presumptuous fellow, Smith, might have had some effect 
in weaning her affections from me. The idea of his thinking for 
a moment to supersede me in the regard or favor of any young 
lady, is simply preposterous, of course ! but then he has a certain 
smooth, insinuating way about him, and that succeeds, some- 
times, and there is no accounting for a woman's caprices. How- 
ever, Auut Jerry's revelations have set my mind at rest on that 
point ! Laura's a sensible girl. I knew she couldn't long resist 
my superior attractions ! Her apparent coolness was only, after 
all, girlish coyness, which will soon wear off now that matters 
are understood between us. And when that officious Smith in- 
trudes himself here again, I hope he'll be able to understand that 
he isn't wanted ! When is she coming, I wonder ? 

Mr. Smith (partly rising and shaking Ms fist at him from be- 
Mnd the sofa — aside). If I don't take the consequence out of you 
before you leave this house, my name's not George Smith ! 
Matters will wear quite a different aspect, my conceited friend, 
when Laura comes in. Poor girl ! how dreadfully disappointed 
and taken aback she will be at first, though ! 

(The door opens. Aunt Jerusha and Laura partially dis- 
covered.) 

Mr. Smith. There they come ! and it's not quite time for me 
to reveal myself yet. 
— (bends down out of sight). 

Aunt Jerusha (at door— aside). Come in, Laura! it's all fixed 
now ; thanks to your Aunt Jerry ! and your true love is waiting 
to receive you! 

Laura (aside). Aunt Jerry, you're an angel! • 

Mr. Wilson (stepping forward). Light of my heart ! 

Laura (ecstatically). Oh ! my dear ! 
(rushes past Aunt Jerusha, and throws herself into Mr. 
Wilson's arms.) 

Mr. Wilson. Let me taste those ruby lips, my heart's own ! 
(Laura raises her head and the next moment starts from his 
embrace with a cry of vexation and chagrin). 



HI TOO CLEVER BY HALF. 

Laura. Oh, Aunt Jerry ! Aunt Jerry ! (bursts into tears). 

Mr. Wilson. Why, Miss Laura ! 

Aunt Jerry (stepping forward). What on earth is the matter 
with you? Here after I've managed it so oleverly. 

Laura (stamping her foot). You've spoiled ev' 
what you've done ! I wish I had never told you a woi 

Mr. Wilson. Why, Laura, this is— 

CTRA {angrily). Don't you ever dare to address me by 
name again, sir! I wish to* goodness I had never seen you ! 

Aunt Jerusha (in surprize). Why, Laura, I thought I had it 
all right ! Ain't this the one you wanted V the nice feller, you 
know ? 

Laura (confused and angry). No, it isn't ! I declare, I 
thought you had a few brains ! Didn't I tell you ! (hesitates)— 
and papa said— oh, dear ! dear ! 

(buries her face in lier handkerchief and bursts into tears). 
, Mr. Smith (springing from concealment). Yes, my darling! I 
know what he said ! and I am here to claim the right of pre- 
cedence, and solicit a promise which I feel sure those sweet lips 
will not deny me ! (catches her in his arms). 

Laura (looking up). Oh, Mr. Smith! Tow here? 
(hides her face on liis shoulder). 

Aunt Jerusha. Well, I never! If I didn't think you had 
gone long ago ! 

Mr. Smith. There's nothing easier than to be mistaken, Aunt 
Jerry, as you have given us ample evidence to-day ! (bending his 
head to Laura) — am I right, darling? is my presence less dis- 
tasteful to you ? 

Mr. Wilson (hotly). What does all this mean, sir ? I demand 
an explanation ! 

Mr. Smith (smiling). With all my heart, sir ! I canie hither 
this afternoon upon the same errand as yourself, and a few mo- 
ments previous to you, to declare to Miss Laura the sentiments I 
have long entertained toward her, but had until now kept secret. 
It was with much inward trembling that I set forth — (to Laura) 
— but what was my joy, when in some remarks which Aunt 
Jerry unwittingly let fall, I learned that my cherished hopes 
were destined to be realized. Perceiving at once that she had, 
in her well-meant endeavors, got matters all wrong, and finding 
myself unable to prevail upon her to let me see you theft, I re- 
I ro stay and wait my opportunity ; and trusting to your 
ultimate forgiveness, concealed myself behind this sofa ! and 
now I have my reward ! (hisses her). 

Mr. Wilson (in a great passion). I demand satisfaction, sir ! 

Mr. Smith. I trust my words are satisfaction enough ! Despite 
your aspersions upon my presumption, and your certainty of 
your own superior attractions, I have secured the prize you were 
so confident of obtaining. Am I right, my dear Lama'? 



TOO CLEVER BY HALF. • . 115 

Laura (sotto voce). Yes, George ! you are right— at last ! 

Aunt Jeeusha. Well, then, it is all right ! and I did manage 
it after all ! Didn't I tell you I always was clever at such things 
from a child! 

Mr. Smith. Ah, Aunt Jerry! you were too clever ! too clever 
by half ! If I had taken alarm at what you first said, and gone 
away, as I was. half inclined to do for a moment, I might have 
lost my dear Laura irrevocably ! 

Aunt Jerusha. Well, so long as it turned out so satisfactory, I 
think you might give me some of the credit ! But that's just the 
way with young folks ! They're all so ungrateful — (to Frank). 
I don't believe you're wanted here any longer. Mr. "Wilson! I 
guess you'd better go, now ! 

Mr. Wilson. I think I had, by gracious ! 
— (catches up his hat and rushes out). 

Mr. Smith. And now, my dear Laura, let me fulfill a vow 
that I made during my self-imposed incarceration ! 
— (steps up behind Aunt Jerusha, and Jcisses her on the cheek). 

Aunt Jerusha (screams). Oh ! you horrid man! 

Mr. Smith (roguishly). It wasn't so bad as all that, I hope, 
Aunt Jerry ! That was to pay you for your efforts in my behalf, 
and also as a mark of approbation for your superior cleverness! 
And now, my darling ! (returning to Laura) — the next time I 
call I am going to ask another favor of you ! 

Laura (smiting). What is that, George? 

Mr. Smith (putting his arm around her). To fix our wedding 
day, my pet! Will you have any objections? 

Laura. No very serious ones, I guess ! 

Mr. Smtth. And you're not jealous because I kissed Aunt 
Jerry ? I promised myself when crouching down behind that 
sofa that if matters came right I would thus repay her exertions ! 
For despite her blunders, she has indirectly been the means of 
securing our happiness ! 

Aunt Jerusha (complacently). Well, it's something to have 
one's efforts appreciated ! I always did think you was a very 
fine young man, Mr. Smith, and I'm delighted to think that 
Laura is likely to have so good a husband ! 

Mr. Smith (laughing). Thank you, Aunt Jerry ! We'll ex- 
tend the olive-leaf to you, then, and overlook all mistakes. 

Laura (putting her hand through his arm). Yes ; for much as 
I loved you, George, I should never have had the courage to tell 
you so, and so the present agreeable state of affairs is largely due 
to the fact that our good Aunt Jerry was too clever by half ! 

CTJBTMN. 



THE ROSE-COLOUED NOTE. 

A DOMESTIC DRAMA. 



CRABA CTEBS. 

Paul, a jealous husband. 
Bertha, his wife. 
John, a servant. 



SCENE. — A room; right, a table, with lighted lamp, writing 
materials, and a long pipe. Chairs, a sofa on which is a 
robe de chambre, Turkish slippers, and spectacles. Left, a 
fireplace. 

Enter Paul, followed by John. 

Paul. So rny uncle is not at home. 

John. No, sir ; he went out not long ago, but he will return 
soon. 

Paul. If that is the case I will wait. 

John. Certainly sir. Here are to-day's papers. 

Paul. Thanks ! {exit John). Oh ! what a life ! My uncle, an 
old sea-dog, just got back from China ! Yesterday I hastened 
to meet him, and told him that to- day I would present my wife 
to him. To-day, instead, I have to tell him that she and I are at 
daggers drawn— on the eve of a possible separation. — Separation ! 
married just three months ! — and yet I love her— she is so charm- 
ing — and she loves me— ah ! but does she ?— Perhaps, after all, 
my suspicions are groundless— but then, why wouldn't she show 
me that note ? "Why hide it away ? Who wrote it ? "What was 
it ? — Well ! my uncle will tell me —for she gave me plainly to 
understand that she would see him to-day, and tell him all— all 
— No! he won't tell me. He's one of your chivalrous old fellows 
— would consider a pretty woman's confession as sacred. 

Enter John, with wood, etc., for lighting the fire. 

No ! I shall find out nothing ! (walks up and down excitedly). 

John (aside). "What can be the matter now? 

Paul. I must and will find out what is in that note ! I must ! ! 
But how? (approaches sofa) — ah ! my uncle's morning-gown, 
his slippers— spectacles— an idea ! Yes ! I'll do it ! 

John (aside). How he flares up ! (to Paul). Do you wish any- 
thing, sir? 

116 



THE EOBE-COLOEED NOTE. 117 

Paul. No — yes — wait a moment— (hands John money). 
Here's five dollars for you. (John hesitates)— Take them — why 
not? — now listen. Presently a lady will call on my uncle— a 
very good looking lady — show her in here — and not a word ahout 
my uncle being not at home — you understand "? 

John. Perfectly— yes — hut — 

Paul. Pshaw ! It's my wife — indeed it is. I want to play a 
little trick on her — my uncle need never know it — anyhow, I'll 
be responsible for it to him. 

John. All right, sir. [Exit John. 

Paul. Quick, now ! This disguise ! (puts on the robe, slip- 
pers, spectacles). Turn the lamp down a little (does so). Oh ! 
she won't know me — never saw my uncle. Xow for her confes- 
sion ! (takes pipe and lights it, and sits in an easy chair, back 
to lamp). Ah ! a female voice — she comes— 

Enter John, followed by Bertha. 

John. "Walk in madam, (aside). That's queer ! he has dressed 
himself up like his uncle to receive his wife. Wonder what's his 
little game ! [Exit. 

Bertha (advancing). Have I the pleasure of addressing Cap- 
tain Cutter ? 

Paul (aside). I must disguise my voice, (to Bertha). Tours 
to command, madam. What can I do for you ? 

Bertha. I am Bertha Montague. 

Paul. What ! my niece ? (aside). A smart little craft ! (to 
Bertha). I am sorry I was not present at your marriage with 
my scamp of a nephew, but just then I was in China— only ar- 
rived here two days ago (puts pipe aside). 

Bertha. I am aware of it— but my dear Captain — pray don't 
stop smoking on my account. 

Paul. You're very kind. I am glad to see you are a sensible 
woman, and an acquisition to our family. 

Bertha (smiling). I hope I have something more in my favor 
than that. 

Paul. No doubt, my dear niece (looking around). But how 
is it that Paul is not with you? 

Bertha. No, uncle — I came alone. I have grave matters to 
tell you, and hope for your good counsel. 

Paul aside). Xow it's coming ! (aloud). Indeed? I'm sorry 
for that —tell me now— I'm all attention. 

Bertha. Uncle — my husband gives me serious cause for com- 
plaint. 

Paul Already? Married only three months ! Don't you think 
you are rather premature ? 

Bertha. I can't belp it. Our home is already insupportable. 

Paul. Is it possible ? I thought he overwhelmed you with 
attention. Come, now, tell me all about it. What is the 



118 THE ROSE-COLORED NOTE. 

trouble with my nephew? He's a right good fellow— quite a 
ladies' man. (aside), that's pretty good for me— (aloud). He told 
me you loved him with all your heart. 

Bertha. That's all very well, but he is so— so horribly 
jealous. 

Paul. What ! jealous ! Why so? 

Bertha. Fearfully ! Would 3-011 believe it, now? he never 
lots me go out alone— so jealous and distrustful— what a humil- 
iation for me. Why, uncle— that is what girls long for— inde- 
pendence. — Before marriage we are in training, as it were — 
watched over— followed everywhere.— A married woman expects 
to go where she pleases. Her husband's name is her protection 
- she is no longer under tutelage, but is somebody, and respected. 
My husband sticks to me like my shadow— goes everywhere 
with me— even to church— a place I don't think he attended to 
very often formerly. 

Paul. That at least is an act of conversion which should re- 
dound to your credit, 

Bertha. Even the attentions of my relations offends him, and 
he offends tliem— there's my cousin Arthur — he has fairly driven 
him from the house. 

\ Paul. Well — well — but sometimes cousins, you know, are a 
little too presuming — 

Bertha. What ! .Arthur? He's so nice — so good— we have 
grown up together from childhood. 

Paul. That's all very well— but perhaps Paul thinks that 
Arthur's company un advisable — too familiar — 

Bertha. Nonsense — we have been like brother and sister all 
our lives — But that's not the worst— could you believe that he 
actually opens and reads all my letters ? He does ! 

Paul. Does he not allow you to open his? 

Bertha. I would not think of such a thing— I can trust Mm ! 
Why should he not have faith mmef JSTo ! that is no way to treat 
a wife— 

Paul. Men are only jealous where they love. 

Bertha. A ridiculous old maxim— all nonsense. In short, 
my married life has become insupportable — jarring and wrangling 
every day — and just when I felt like ending it once and for all, 
last night it came to a crisis. 

Paul. Indeed ? poor child ! what happened last night? 

Bertha. We were just sitting down to supper. The servant 
brought in on a salver a letter in a pink envelope for me. My 
husband, as usual, put out his hand to take it, but I w T as too 
quick for him — I took it myself, and the servant left the room. 
Paul wanted to read it— I refused. — He tried every means- 
anger, supplication, coaxing — no ! I had made up my mind, and 
I would not I Baffled — he actually endeavored to snatch it from 
my hand ! I screamed -ran out to my boudoir, locked the door 



THE ROSE-COLORED NOTE. 119 

— and then shouted to him that I would never — never let him 
read that letter — that I would tell his uncle everything— That's 
the sort of supper we had last night ! 

Paul. Great thunder ! all that fuss over a bit of paper? 

Bertha. It was simply a matter of principle — I ought to have 
insisted on it from the very day of our marriage — 

Paul. Well, my dear, if' that's the case, pray what can I do ? 

Bertha. Quite simple. Give your nephew a good rating. 
Sho w him how wrongly he treats me, and make him beg my 
pardon for his violent behavior last night. 

Paul. Good gracious ! How you go ahead ! 

Bertha, {rising). What ? do you think he was right ? 

Paul. I can't say that, {aside). I must pacify her, or I shall 
never find anything out. {aloud). I'll try and do what you say. 
But— you surely must understand that I cannot properly under- 
take such a task unless I know what was in that letter. 

Bertha. Oh, nothing whatever to offend my husband — on the 
contrary, it said — 

Paul. Oblige me, now — you know that a rose-colored en- 
velope — 

Bertha. What has the color to do with it ? 

Paul {forgetting himself, and in his own voice — excitedly). 
And smelling of musk ! 

Bertha [startled). How do you know that f 

Paul {confused). Oh— I guessed so— billets-doux always 
smell of musk ! {aside). I almost betrayed myself, {goes towards 
the lamp). How the lamp smokes ! {turns it doivn lower). 

Bertha {aside). It's awful strange— my husband's voice ! 
could it be ? 

Paul. Come, niece, let's examine this rose-colored bone of 
contention. 

Bertha. Must I? {she takes note from her pocket). 

Paul. Oh, undoubtedly, {aside). At last ! I shall know all ! 
{aloud). Hand it over, (holds out hand). 

Bertha {aside). That ring— I gave it him— It is he ! I half 
suspected it— oh ! I'll teach him. {while speaking, toys with the 
letter). 

Paul {impatient). Oh, give it me — 

Bertha {putting letter in her pocket). K"o ! I cannot— I 
won't. 

Paul (rising). But, my dear niece !— 

Bertha. Silence ! somebody's coming. 

Enter John. 
John {softly). Sir ! 

Paul {gruffly). What's the matter? why do you interrupt us ? 
John. I only want to— to tell you— {aside to Paul). Your 
uncle's just come back. 



120 THE ROSE-COLORED NOTE. 

Paul (aside). My uncle ! the deuce ! (to Paul). Yory well, 
show him into the parlor — I will be with him in a moment. 

[Joun bows and retires, 
(to Bertha). That's— a— that's your husbaud ; he wants to see 
me. 

BERTnA. Ah! my husband ! (aside). How sweetly he can lie ! 

Paul. I suppose he wants to tell me all his troubles— I will go 
and hear what he has to say— and then return and report to you. 

Bertha. Do ! dear, good uncle — talk to him — take my part— 
oh ! I depend upon you — 

Paul. Rest assured, my dear niece, I will do my utmost. 
(aside). Confound her ! she won't show me that note ! 

[Exit. 

Bertha (alone). That was certainly a cunning trick of his — 
with his uncle's clothes on — I wonder if his uncle is in with him 
— no matter — Paul thought he could get at that note by strata- 
gem — but he forgot that ring— that gave him away— oh, but this 
is getting interesting ! I'll fix you for this, my fine fellow ! How 
beautifully he can lie ! but then — it ought not to be so very dif- 
ficult — with a little practice —I'll try it myself — see, now, just 
what I want — (goes to table, puts the letter in an envelope and ad- 
dresses it). There — enclose this letter to my uncle— that's the 
first step— ah ! he comes. 

Enter Paul. 

Paul (aside). My uncle says I am utterly in the wrong— but 
still -I must see that letter ! (to Bertha). Yes— I saw Paul— he 
is terribly excited— but I lectured him severely, and he now 
seems more reasonable, and he actually consents to do all you 
can desire. 

Bertha. Perfecrly charming ! "What a perfect diplomatist 
you are ! 

Paul. Yes— I gained his consent — but on one little condition 
—that is— that I am to be the bearer of that letter to him- -he 
wishes to see what is the real cause of all the trouble. 

Bertha (aside). How he persists ! He shall not have it. (to 
Paul). Send him that letter ? Impossible ! 

Paul. How ? Impossible ? Reflect, my dear niece, if you re- 
fuse to accede to his desire — a perfectly reasonable one — your 
husband will have a perfect right to suppose that it contains 
something— blamable — and 

Bertha. And? 

Paul (aside). I must intimidate her— (to her). I assure you, I 
believe him capable, under such circumstances, of seeking legal 
relief— separation— But no— you won't allow him so much satis- 
faction—come—give me the letter and put an end to all trouble. 
Won't you? 



THE KOSK-COLOKED NOTE. 121 

Bertha (apparently m distress). I cannot — I cannot — it's 
simply impossible, {wipes her eyes). 

Paul. But why ? why not '? 

Bertha. Because — because — the letter is from Arthur — 

Paul. From Arthur ? (aside). I knew it ! 

Bertha. I dare not let my husband see it— oh— dear, good 
uncle— you are my only hope — in whom else can I confide — you 
shall know all— oh— heavens — separation — I have dreaded that. 
See, uncle, I submit the letter to you — but before you read it, 
let me first explain — (hands him the letter). 

Paul (takes the letter). Yes — explain — but quickly — Paul is 
waiting for me anxiously, (aside). Tbe letter — I have it ! vic- 
tory ! 

Bertha. "Well, uncle — my husband was jealous of Arthur — 
furiously jealous — forbade him the house — {sobbing). Oh — he 
had good cause ! 

Paul [aside). What do I hear? 

Bertha. But denying him the house was useless — we met — 
every day almost — 

Paul. How was that? I thought your husband never left 
you for a moment — 

Bertha. That mattered little — there were ways— for instance 
—Paul would take me to the dressmaker — I upstairs — he in tbe 
reception room—Arthur was upstairs— a five-dollar bill made it 
right with the dressmaker— ways and ways, you see, when lovers 
agree. 

Paul. But that was culpable— terribly wrong— do you under- 
stand me? (aside). How shall I contain myself? 

Bertha. I swear to you, ancle, I never forgot myself— I never 
wronged Paul— although it was wrong— but don't scold me, 
uncle, or I never can tell you the rest — 

Paul [anxiously). What— worse yet? 

Bertha. Alas, yes! Ob, I feel faint— (sinks half fainting into 
the chair). 

Paul (beside himself). Bertha ! wake up ! (beats her hands), 
(aside). What shall 1 do ? I feel as if I could strangle her — and 
yet — how lovely she is ! Oh ! what misery ! 

Bertha (reviving), Thanks — I'm better now— where was I ? 
Yes — I remember now — my cousin Arthur — 

Paul. Yes — yes! your cousin! 

Bertha. Poor Arthur — oh ! uncle — he was jealous too— jeal- 
ous of my husband. The last time we met he said that his ex- 
istence was no longer endurable — he loves me so deeply— he must 
kill himself if I refused to fly with him — 

Paul. Indeed ? — of course you refused — 

Bertha. Oh— heavens — no ! I consented. 

Paul (starting). You — you — consented ? 

Bertha. What was I to do — my husband had become so 



122 THE ROSE-COLORED NOTE. 

tyrannical— so unbearable— Arthur so kind and devoted— in 
short — in that loiter he appoints the time and place for our rneet- 
ing —for ever— oh ! uncle- (sobbing). How could I show him the 
letter? 

Paul (restraining himself). Surely — that explains— the whole 
matter— where was the rendezvous? 

Bertha (timidly). To-night — eleven o'clock— at the railroad 
depot. 

Paul (crazed, throws off his disguise). Furies! I— I will be 
there ! ! 

Bertha (screams). My husband ! (sinks down, covering her 
face with her hands). Lost ! ! 

Paul. Yes ! your husband — whom you have outraged — be- 
trayed -who knows all ! I will kill him ! ! 

Bertha {laughing). Superb ! what tragedy ! 

Paul. "What! you dare to laugh ? when you should be at my 
feet — imploring pardon — 

Bertha (laughing more). Poor fellow ! But you don't under- 
stand that I have been fooling you all the time ? 

Paul. Pshaw ! mere subterfuge — you forget that I have the 
fatal letter in my hand— 

Bertha. Why don't you read it, then ? 

Paul (opens the letter, reads). " My dear Bertha, since your 
husband's jealousy has barred your door," — what impudence ! — 
' ' and I have not seen you for over a month, '' — eh? — "and de- 
spairing of meeting you, I write to tell you that in one short 
week l"shall be united to a girl, the only" girl I ever loved." — 
(lets the letter drop). "What's all this 1 (half dazed). Arthur — 

Bertha {laughing). Going to be married — 

Paul. And all that you've been telling me ? — 

Bertha. A lesson from which you will draw much profit. I 
hope so, at least. "When you wear your uncle's clothes another 
time, take off the ring I gave yon. Does a light dawn on you ? 

Paul. Oh — I feel as if I was born again — new life — myBertha — 
mine still? 

Bertha. Surely, but on condition — 

Paul. "What you will— 

Bertha. First — never be jealous again— 

Paul. Agreed ! I find it decidedly unpleasant — 

Bertha. Second— my liberty — to" go where I please— alone if 
I wish it. 

Paul. With all my heart ! 

Bertha. And Arthur? 

Paul Kgayly). Arthur! dear fellow— I will insist on being best 
man at his wedding. Come— we'll go at once— together— 

CURTAIN. 



A MIDNIGHT EPISODE. 

A SHORT MONOLOGUE. 



SCEN"E. — A plainly furnished room — Boor at right, back. Table, 
with lamp and writing materials. The Speaker, a young 
man, seated at table. 

{He rises, strikes an attitude ; speaks.) 

Hail ! Abode of peace and quiet, 
Deep embosomed in the glen ; 

Far away from noise and riot, 
And the busy hum of men ' 

Those who woo fair Wisdom, find her 
Such calm, peaceful scenes among, — 

And to them she is far kinder 
Than where thousand votaries throng. 
Tes, — although this is not exactly a glen, but only a couple of 
blocks away from one of the leading streets in Harlem, still I find 
in this mite' of a cottage in a hundred and naughty naught street 
the perfect repose and solitude that the glenniest' of gleus could 
offer. My housekeeper is gone away for the night, and I am 
completely alone. And now, after months of labor and research, 
I hare completed my great work on the discovery and develop- 
ment of America— all done, except a short introduction —which 
should of course be rather interesting, let me see — (sits down) 
ah! a good idea !— (writes) : 'When Christopher — Columbus- 
first conceived — the idea of the existence— of a Western World, 
—he met— with serious obstacles — (a loud knock at tlie door, he 
stops, listens). Great Caesar ! What was that? Cau it be my 
tailor? JSTo — absurd !— he lives in Brooklyn— he would never 
come here at ten o'clock at night ; —besides— he doesu't know- 
nobody knows, that I live here. It must be somebody or some- 
thing- I'll see— (Goes to door, brings in a basket.) This on the 
door-step, and not a soul to be seen- I wonder what's in this 
basket— it feels rather heavy — (puts it suddenly on a chair) — 
something moving in it ! — some stupid trick, I suppose — (a baby's 
cry is heard)— that sounds rather like a cat — let's see, any how. 
(Lifts the cover, starts back.) Good gracious! a baby ! (Runs 
out of door, presently returns out of breath.) Iso ! not a soul in 
sight — What in the world can I do with it ? Ah— there's a paper 
pinned on the baby's coverlid — (Takes paper and reads.) "Hon- 
ored Sir— This is my own baby." (Speaks.) Well — that's reas- 
suring! It certain! v isn't mine. (Heads.) "Circumstances, 

123 



12-4 A MIDNIGHT EPISODE. 

which I do not care to explain, compel me to secrete this baby for 
two hours : at midnight, place baby and basket where yon found 
them, — they will be taken away but at your peril, seek to dis- 
cover no more, — nor tiy to penetrate this mystery. Be faithful, 
and you will be rewarded." (Speaks.) Two hours ! {Baby cries, 
he pats and soothes it.) "Well, perhaps it will not disturb me 
much —but it has put me into such a fluster. (Sings to baby.) 
'• Hush-a-bye, baby, on the tree-top"— so — so — If it will only 
sleep, the two hours will soon pass — come— (sits to write again) 

- let's see — where was I— Oh, yes— (reads) — "he met with seri- 
ous obstacles. (Writes.) The theories — he advanced — in favor 
of his belief, — although convincing— to his own sanguine--(2?a6y 
cries loudly. He dashes down Ms pen. Speaks.) Oh! I forgot 
all about that wretched baby ! (Goes to basket, rocks it, sings.) 
Hush-a-bye, baby, etc." (As soon as he stops rocking it begins 
to cry again; he sits down in despair.) What have I done? 
Why am I tormented thus? I- a quiet, peaceable man — to be 
saddled with a squalliug brat. (Baby cries again.) Did you ever 
hear such a little wretch ! Oh ! I shall go crazy— Another hour 
of this yelling and I shall need a straight-jacket — (Shouts.) Stop 
that yelling! (Shakes the basket, without avail.) I don't care — 
cry ! " That's right ! Tell ! ( Walk about distractedly, puts fingers 
in his ears.) Oh ! that's delightful— I can't hear it much — let it 
cry all it likes ! (Takes his hands from his ears, the baby becomes 
quiet. ) Cried itself out — "What a relief ! Once more to my task 

— sits down and writes) "his own sanguine hopes -and confi- 
dent expectations,— they failed to obtain— the slightest credence 
— from those whose aid -was indispensable — to the working out 
—of his " — (Baby yells.) Oh ! shades of Christopher Columbus ! 
That terrible baby ! (Goes to basket, takes out baby, dandles it, 
walking up and down ; trips over a chair and falls heavily, baby 
underneath him. As he falls, baby gives one yell and all is silent. 
He turns over, sitting on the floor, feels the baby all over.) Baby! 
Baby ! ! speak to me — Yell ! Just once ! Oh, horror ! it's dead ! ! 
Bead— vrhat?— Oh ! What shall I do? Fifteen minutes more— 
and it will be called for — The very first thing whoever comes for 
it will do — of course— will be to look at it — and find it— dead, 
(Gets up.) And I — arrested — thrown into jail — tried — con- 
demned—wilful murder— ISTo ! jSTo ! ! I shall go mad! (Puts 
baby in basket and carries it to the door.) No ! I dare not put 
it there— (takes it out of basket) — but where, oh, where can I put 
it? (Sits down, his elbows on his knees, and both hands in his hair. ) 
I must think— try to think the way out of this terrible dilemma. 
True— I might deny ever having set eyes on it— but then— this 
evidence (holds out the baby) — this damning proof, would give 
the lie direct to such an assertion,— and the basket ! Oh ! "Where 
can I hide them? Oh, for a castle of old, full of trap doors and 
secret panels ! No — there is not a nook or corner in this cottage 



A RUNAWAY MATCH. 125 

for concealment. Almost twelve o'clock— something must be 
done! Oh, baby! baby!! [Sobbing.) Only a few short mo- 
ments ago and Thought your screams would drive me mad — and 
now— I would give anything - everything — I would barter my 
Christopher Columbus for one lusty yell —(Shakes the baby.) Xo! 
not a sound ! (Puts it in basket and sits at table, his head bowed 
down on his arms— a faint baby cry is heard; he starts and 
listens.) Hark ! What was that ? Was it — (Another faint cry.) 
Yes ! Oh, joy ! I'm saved ! Quick— out with it ! (Puts basket 
outside the door. Loud baby-cries heard outside.) Oh! blessed 
sounds— Saved ! — (Knock at the door. He starts, completely 
scared.) Ha! some one comes— I must fly — the back door! 
Away ! [Exits hurriedly, L. 



A RUNAWAY MATCH. 

A DRAWING-ROOM PLAY. 



CHAM A C TEE S . 

Jennie, an heiress visiting Jack's mother. 
Jack, cousin to Jennie. 

MR:^ R, \ s """" er, """ rde '- s - 

Minister. 



SCENE I. — Reception room— a mirror at one side of stage. 

Enter Jennie. 

Jennie (swings garden hat— pauses nedr centre— looks flur- 
ried). Dear ! ! dear. Who could have imagined such an' end 
to my pet flirtation — a cool bath to my vanity! (approaches 
mirror — views herself mockingly). What do you think of vour- 
self now, Miss Jennie Wilklns? charming! are you not? (walks 
about). A green country girl, eh ! That's the verdict— Colonel 
Carter, Esquire ; prove it— bring in your evidence ! Give me 
patience ! If I mistake not, this conceited city chap will dis- 
cover that I am not such a green country girl after all— 

Enter Jack. 
Cousin Jack ! 

Jack (approaches Jennie). Is it possible I find you alone. 
Where is young Carter ? 



126 A RUNAWAY MATCH. 

Jennie. I do not own a Carter. What do you mean? 

Jack. Do not try to humbug me, cousin ; come, let us be 
seated, (places chairs— they sit). Only imagine! I have been 
looking forward to this visit and longing for a return of the 
happy days we spent together last Summer, riding -fishing — 
berry-hunting, and all sorts of fun;- but whenever i want you 
to join in any pleasant sport, mother puts me off with : " Your 
cousin is singing for Colonel Carter," — or ".Ko, Jennie is listen- 
ing to Colonel Carter read;"— the truth is, you are always walk- 
ing or riding, or engaged in some way with this everlasting Col- 
onel Carter— I am beginning to think you will marry him be— 

Jennie. 0! Jack ! Do you really believe this ? 

Jack. Yes. But you will regret it — [suddenly). You are not 
in love with him — are you ? 

Jennie. In love with him ? Are you in love with him, Jack ? 

Jack. I hate him. I detest him, and wish I could in some 
way mortify him, and— 

Jennie. 0, then I can count on your assistance ! 

Jack. My assistance !— please explain. 

Jennie {draws closer to Jack). Now, Jack— you must oe as 
secret as the grave in regard to what I tell you- pay attention to 
every word and promise you will not breathe it to a human 
being ; now if you will help_ me and promise - 

Jack. I'll promise anything in reason if by doing so I can 
humiliate this fop. — Go on — I am impatient to hear your plans, 
though I can hardly realize that you are serious after all I have 
seen — 

Jennie. ! don't allude to my silly conduct, Jack. I have 
paid for my vanity— but now I must explain precisely how mat- 
ters stand. Would you believe I was passing the arbor at the 
lower side of the garden. The dense shade prevented us from 
seeing each other, and I heard Colonel Carter talking to Mr. 
Ellis, the new boarder. You know he was not here when I came 
and has not seen me. Do you not think, Jack, I was justifiable, 
after I heard my own name (looks imploringly a t J ack) to stop and 

Jack. Yes, little eaves dropner. of course, but go on— 

Jennie. Very well, then.— Mr. Ellis asked the Colonel how he 
was getting on with the heiress. Miss Wilkins; and what do you 
think the conceited fellow said ? Why— that he was rather bored 
than otherwise, but went on to say — 

Jack. The contemptible — 

Jennie. There ! Don't fly off! Wait until I tell you all. —He 
said, "Ellis, you know my" confounded condition—! cannot af- 
ford to be fastidious— good luck has thrown this little heiress in 
my way; it is true she is a green country girl — yes, exceedingly 
verdant, but she might improve by contact— one thing is sure — 
she has solid charms— golden qualities, and what is more, the 
little simpleton loves me to distraction. 



A BUN AWAY MATCH. 127 

Jack (excitedly). Did he say this 1 (doubles fist). I will— 

Jennie. No ! no ! You will do nothing but what I dictate. 
Depend upon it, I will make him pay for every word he has said 
if you will only help me to carry out my plot. — But I must tell 
you the rest. — Colonel Carter said: "I shall expect you, Ellis, 
to be my best man."— Do you blame me, Jack, for seeking to be 
revenged? 

Jack. 1 do not; but, cousin, I think the most sensible thing is 
for me to call him out and shoot the top of his head off. 

Jennie. Oh, no ! He is not worth the powder and shot you 
would waste on such a double-faced creature ; trust me to anni- 
hilate him quite as effectually, and more to my taste and con- 
science. 

Jack. I would much prefer to attend to him myself— but let 
me hear your programme. 

Jennie. In the first place, you know that I am not to marry 
until I am eighteen. Colonel Carter knows that my aunt, who 
is my guardian, would never consent to my marriage before that 
time, and so last night the gallant Colonel proposed. 

Jack. The deuce he did ! 

_ Jennie. Yes, he asked me to run away with him, and be mar- 
ried in spite of everything — 

Jack. And pray what did you say ? 

Jennie. I consented ; that is, I counted on your assistance. 

Jack (rises excitedly). My assistance ! I gave you credit for 
more pride — more sense— after what you overheard. 

Jennie (catches Jack's arm). But, Jack, I was — 

Jack. Tt's no use, I'll not help you— I— 

Jennie (pleads). Oh, Jack ! do not look at me in that way. 
I know I deserve your contempt for encouraging that wicked 
fortune-hunter. He flattered me and swore he loved me, and I, 
like a silly fool, after all your kindness, gave him the preference, 
but you know I always did like you, and — (puts handkerchief 
to eyes). Oh, cousin Jack ! 

Jack. There ! Don't cry, Jennie dear, I do not wish to wound 
you, but I will not help you to run away with that city fop and— 

Jennie (dries eyes.) I can never make you understand. It is 
you and not myself I mean. 

Jack. Fin afraid I shall never understand — It cannot be pos- 
sible, Jennie, that you wish me to elope with Colonel Carter ! 
Why, whoever heard of a fellow running away to be married to 
another fellow ? 

Jennie. Jack— Jack! Will you only stop and listen. The 
Colonel is to wait in,the vestry of the church at twelve to-night, 
where it is arranged that I shall meet him, — and then upon my 
arrival the ceremony is to be performed. Don't interrupt me — 
Now I wish you to "come to my boudoir at eleven and submit to 
my manipulations, in short — allow me to rig you from head to 



128 A BUNAWAY MATCH. 

foot in my clothes. Do not look so contemptuous. We are 
almost the same height and in the night you can easily pass 
without suspicion. 1 can conceal your face entirely with a thick 
veil— Is it not lucky you are so slender? You see I am to follow, 
as your maid — I told him I would not consent to go without Mar- 
jone, and he readily agreed. 

Jack. I see your idea, hut fear it cannot be carried out suc- 
cessfully, besides — 

Jennie. Oh, no more "besides." Only promise to be here at 
the appointed time and submit yourself to me, I will wager to 
make the disguise perfect— but remember you are to remain silent 
and keep the veil drawn closely over your' face — 

Jack. Where am I to go first '? 

Jennie. Don't climb that mountain until you get to it (bell 
rings outside) Oh, there is the supper bell and your mother is 
always fretted when we are not punctual— Be sure to come by 
eleven— (starts to go, Jack detains her.) 

Jack. Not so fast, my sweet cousin. You shall not escape so 
easily. Before that city upstart came here to board you did like 
me, and when 1 saw him following you like your own shadow I 
was in despair (Jennie struggles to release herself). Jennie, 
tell me that you love me, only the least bit. I shall not let you 
go till— 

Jennie. Please let go my hand, Jack, you know how your 
mother will scold —if we are not puuetual — please — ' 

Jack. Nonsense, I used to dread a scolding but I've outgrown 
all that ;— my only fear now is that I may lose you. Come ! give 
one small peg of comfort on which to hang a hope. 

Jennie. I shall make no promises until you cany out the pro- 
gramme laid down — (bell rings loudly) Oh, there is the bell again, 
Aunt will be furious \— {glides from Jack's hold— starts to ran— 
looks back saucily) Catch me if you can ! 

Jack. Oh, J can. [They ran off stage. 



SCENE II.— Same as first except the addition of the parapher- 
nalia of a lady's boudoir. Dresses, aprons, cuffs, collars, 
ribbons, shawls, etc., in confusion. Jack before mirror 
dressed in loose walking suit 'of dark shade. Je\ t nie with 
box of powder and puff— attempts to whiten Jack's face. 

Jack. Hold on !— What's the use of all this? You forget my 
face is not to be seen — 

Jennie. Sure enough,— stand back and let me see if you are 
all right — Oh but you look too funny — What a giant you are to 
be sure. I'll have to cover the defects with a shawl -(places 
sliawl) there! that is much better — Oh, those horrid hands! I 
had no idea you were so big. 



A RUNAWAY MATCH. 129 

Jack. What's to be done 1 1 couldn't squeeze one of my thumbs 
in your glove. 

Jennie {arranges shawl). Hold this so— and hide your hands — 
{places hat and veil on Jack) Remember now, — you are not to 
speak— you must be too much frightened— Take the Colonel's 
arm— he'll be sure to offer it. Listen but do not say a word. I 
•will be close behind and when the minister asks him first— and 
then turns to you and says : "Will you have this man, etc," then 
raise your veil and I will do the same. Won't it be jolly ? 

Jack. Jolly is not the word— but I must practise a little 
(walks about). 

Jennie. Jack ! Jack ! that will never do — Oh, you will kill 
me -(laughs). 

Jack. What's the matter with that ? 

Jennie. You must not stride in that way — Keep your feet 
closer together — Colonel Carter will know it is not a woman if 
you per — 

Jack. Dog on it all — I thought I was acting the lady to the 
ninety nines— (walks loith mincing gait) How's that ? 

Jennie. Better, — decidedly —but see ! it is time for us to go. 
Are you sure everybody is in bed ? The house perfectly quiet ? 

Jack. Yes. The whole house is still as death and I tied Bruno 
behiud the shed. 
(Jennie dons hat and veil, draws on gloves.) 

Are you ready ? 

Jennie. Yes.* (starts to go — turns shakes finger warningly at 
Jack) I'll go before till we get outside and remember Jack — 
Don't stride ! 

Jack. All right. Forward ! March ! (turns to audience.) I 
go to meet the enemy ! [Exeunt. 



SCEXE III.— Church vestry. Carter and Ellis near front. 
Minister in background with prayer book. Tlie light dim. 

Carter (peers out uneasily). They are late ! Jennie promised 
to be here at twelve sharp — it is now two minutes past. What 
can it mean ? She will not surely play me false. 

Ellis. Of course you feel impatient; but, if the girl loves you 
as vou say she does, there is no such word in her vocabulary as 
fail. 
- Carter. Oh, she loves me. — Indeed I may say she idolizes me. 

Ellis. Then she will come. Your watch may be a trifle fast. 
Do not despond. 

Carter. It is easy to advise— but recollect that you are not on 
a rack of suspense — with a dozen or more hungry creditors at your 
heels— If that girl should go back on me— I am a ruined man. 



130 A RUNAWAY MATCH. 

Ellis (starts). Sh— hush — I hear footsteps (goes to entrance, 
peers) Yes! I distinguish two female figures — 

Carter. Yes! she is to bring her maid -a faithful servant in 
whom my charmer confides — (rushes to entrance). 

Enter Jack followed by Jennie. 

Carter (takes Jennie's hand leads her towards Minister). My 
darling, faithful and true! Angel of beauty (pauses) Do not 
be afraid I will protect you with my life- (aside) Gad ! I'm half 
in love with the girl for not disappointing me ! (to Jennie) Come, 
sweet love, allow me to lead you to the altar— (looks earnestly 
at Jennie) Too full to speak, dearest? 
(They stand before Minister.) 

Minister. Charles Carter, do you take this woman to be your 
lawful wedded wife f Do you promise to love, cherish, protect 
and comfort her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others 
cleave to her so long as you both do live— answer— I do. 

Carter. I do. 

Minister (to Jack). Jennie TVilkins, do you take this man 
to be your lawful wedded husband? Do you promise to love, 
honor, and obey him, cherishing and comforting him in sickness 
and in health, and forsaking all others, cleave to him so long as 
you both do live? Answer— I do — 

Jack (throws up veil). ISTo— not if I know myself and I think 
I do. 

Carter (aghast). Perdition ! (rushes off stage followed by 
Ellis; Minister disappears at back. Jack leads Jennie for- 
ward.) 

Jack. Now, my dear Jennie, I demand a straightforward 
answer to my question. I am more than willing to forgive your 
little flirtation as I believe your heart is right, and that you do 
love me— now are you willing to link your fate with that of your 
plain country cousin in preference to marrying a heartless for- 
tune hunter ? Speak ! 

Jennie. Jack, I have forfeited all claim to your respect, much 
less affection, by allowing myself to listen to Colonel Carter's 
fulsome flattery, but if you are willing to permit me to return to 
my allegiance I will answer— (pats hand in Jack's) Yes ! 

CUBTAIN. 



THE WRONG MAN. 

A COMEDIETTA. 



CRAB AC TEES 

Aunt Patience Reed. I Mr. Thompson. 

Josie Reed. Mr. Sherwood. 



SCENE I.— A farm-house kitchen. Aunt Patience and 
Josie busy with housework. 

Aunt Patience. Now Josie, you may as well understand, 
first as last, that you are to give up all thoughts of that good for 
nothing young popinjay, Charley Sherwood! I gave him his 
answer last evening, in plain enough English I hope, and you 
may as well make up your mind to accept the circumstances. 

Josie (crossly). Indeed I shall make up my mind to no such 
thing ! And I think it's a shame, Aunt patience, for you to 
treat Charley and me in this way ! Charley is a darling ; and I 
shall never love any one else and never marry any one else— so 
there now ! 

Aunt Patience. Oh that's all girlish romance and nonsense ! 
It will wear off after a while, and you will settle down into a 
more sensible way of life. 

Josie. If by "settling down" you mean to forget Charley, it 
will be long enough before it happens, I can assure you ! 1 don't 
see what you have against Charley — the clear fellow. 

Aunt Patience. I have against him that he's a sly, conceited 
jackanapes; and moreover that I'm determined to have you 
marry Mr. Thompson, who is worth a dozen of him. 

Josie. I admire your taste, Aunt Patience, I must say ! He 
could'nt hold a candle to my Charley ' I think I am the most 
abused, ill-treated girl in the whole world ! 

Aunt Patience. You may be thankful that you have an aunt 
who understands aud is willing to look after your best interests, 
you ungrateful girl! But that's the way with all young folks, 
they never can appreciate the motives and efforts of their elders 
in securing them a good match, until they've been married some 
half a dozen years, and then they are glad enough that they acted 
sensibly, and accepted good advice ! 

Josie. If any unfortunate combination of circumstances 
131 



132 THE WRONG MAN. 

shoulu compel me to tie myself to that abominable Mr. Thompson, 
he would be a widower again in a great deal less time than six 
years ! I didn't think you could be so cruel, Aunt Patience ! If 
you had ever been in love yourself, you might understand my 
case a little better, and be more considerate; ! 

AUNT Patience (aside). Ah ! she little knows that my love 
for the dear man is the very reason that prompts me to advance 
his interests! If he had only asked me, 'now, instead of wasting 
his affections upon an uu appreciative chit like her ! (aloud) Josie 
you are getting too pert altogether; and you give proof every day 
of the necessity for you to have a sedate, grave man like Mr. 
Thompson, to tone you down a little. So you may as well spare 
your breath and your temper, for I'm determined not to allow 
that young jackanapes to come prowling around here any longer. 

Josie (angrily). I'm not going to submit to hearing Charley 
called names, Aunt Patience, especially when he is compared 
with the great, straddling, barn-smelling clodhopper, who comes 
into the best room with his pants tucked inside of his boots ! I 
must take entire leave of my senses indeed, before I would con- 
template for a moment the idea of marrying him ! 

Aunt Patience. Hold your tongue, you impudent girl ! Tou 
ought to be ashamed to speak so of Mr. Thompson ! He thinks 
the world and all of you, and you ought to regard yourself as a 
very fortunate woman indeed to be chosen by him ! 

Josie. Really, Aunt Patience, Mr. Thompson ought to know 
what an eloquent advocate he has in you ; one might almost sus- 
pect that you — 

Aunt Patience (interrupting). Any way, he is none of your 
gallivanting popinjays, who wear false teeth, and dye their hair 
and beards black when the Lord made them some other color ! 

Josie (in surprise). Well who does ! Perhaps you would like 
to make me think that Charley does ! 

Aunt Patience. There's no -'perhaps" about it — because I 
happen to know that such is the case. 

Josie (indignantly). Aunt Patience ! how dare you ! The idea 
of Charley's splendid glossy black hair and moustache being 
dyed, or his teeth false ! I know better and so do you ! 

Aunt Patience (aside). That touches her ! Well she deserves 
it, for daring to speak so disrespectfully of a man a thousand 
times too good for her! (aloud). You know better, eh? Well 
111 convince you that you don't know better; and prove to you 
that you have been wasting your thoughts and affections on a 
vain, conceited puppy, who cares only for his personal appear- 
ance ! 

Josie. To prove to you how utterly I repudiate even the sus- 
picions you have thrown upon him, Aunt Patience, I will declare 
to you what you must know, if you are at all acquainted with 
my character and sentiments, that I would not for a moment 



THE WRONG MAN. 133 

countenance or tolerate a lover who practised such unmanly 
habits— any more than you would ! 

Aunt Patience. Yery fine sentiments, I admit. I only hope 
you'll be consistent enough to stand by them when the test comes ! 
If young girls will be so rash and build their air castles so high and 
without any rational foundation, they mustn't be surprised to 
see them come tumbling around their feet at the most unexpected 
times. • 

Josie {impatiently). There, Aunt Patience, do defer the rest 
of your lecture until some other time, and produce the proofs of 
your assertion — if you have any ! 

Aunt Patience. Oh you needn't be in any hurry, the proofs 
will come fast enough ! I will pass over that disrespectful slur 
upon my veracity, as nothing more than might be expected from 
a girl in such an unreasonable state of mind as you are, although 
its a very unsatisfactory return for the pains I've taken to bring 
you up in the way you should go ! Just read these two papers, 
and then see whether I'm right or wrong, and how responsible a 
person Charley Sherwood is to intrust one's welfare for life. Talk 
of woman monopolising all the vanity and pretensions, indeed ! 
{hands papers to Josie). 

Josie {opens one, reads). Mr. Charles Sherwood, 

To Brown & Wells, Dr. 

To £ dozen bottles Jet Hair Bye. at $10.00 per doz $5 00 

One Vanilla Beard Colorer 2 50 

Rec'd Paym't, $7 50 

Brown & "Wells. 

Aunt Patience {triumphantly). There what do you think of 
that? 

Josie {reads other paper). Mr. Charles Sherwood, 

To Enamel & Co., Dr. 

To one full set teeth on galvanized plate $15 00 

Paid— Enamel & Co. 

Aunt Patience. That's your fine lover with his splendid teeth ! 
Are you ready to acknowledge that its true ? 

Josie {throwing letters on table). I don't care if it is true ! 
It's a right down mean action on your part, Aunt Patience ! You 
had no business with Charley's private papers ! 

Aunt Patience. I have business to investigate whatever I 
find in my own house, I suppose ! When you see Charley Sher- 
wood again, to tell him that you are Mr. Thompson's engaged 
wife, you may also tell him to be careful how he drops such 
papers on my parlor floor when he pulls out his handkerchief with 
such a grand flourish ! 

Josie {defiantly). I'll tell him ! But I'll never forgive you, 
Aunt Patience Reed, and — and— I won't believe it either, on such 
proof ! The idea of Charley with false teeth ! Pshaw ! 



134 THE WBONG MAN. 

Aunt Patience. I'd like to have you explain what you mean 
by such impertinent words, Josie Reed ? 

Josie. Oh, I'll leave you to do all the explaining! You seem 
to be such an excellent hand at it. As for me I decline to say 
anything more on the subject, except that I'll be drawn and 
quartered, before I'll change my name for that of Thompsonl 
So you may tell him so yourself, if you bike, when he intrudes 
his odious presence here again. [Exit sobbing. 

Aunt Patience. What a temper that girl has got ! And bow 
pertinaciously she holds on to Charley, despite this unmistakable 
evidence against him. A woman convinced against her will is of 
the same opinion still, they say ; and I declare, I shouldn't be at 
all surprised if as far as from estranging her from Charley, it will 
have the effect of making her think more of him than ever ! Oh, 
Mr. Thompson, how could you be so blind as not to see where 
your love met a true response ? If anybody had told me that 
Patience Reed at thirty-five years of age would have been guilty 
of such a weakness, I'd have thought they were taking leave of 
their senses, or suspected that I was ! And yet I've got to ac- 
knowledge to myself that I've been so silly as to go and fall in 
love with himself, while his affections were enlisted in favor of 
Josie who declares in her pert, forward way that she wouldn't 
take them for a gift, and that she thanks him for nothing ! Oh, 
what a terrible turn it gave me, when he came over the other 
day, looking so honest and handsome, and I felt sure the question 
was coming that I had been waiting and hoping so long to hear, 
and then he up and tells me that it's Josie that he's been hanker- 
ing after all this time ! I'm thankful I was able to conceal my 
feelings, for I wouldn't have him or her, know for the world how 
dreadfully I was disappointed ! And his lands join right on to 
mine, and would look so nice thrown into one ; and now there's 
no chauce of getting him for any kind of a relation, that I can 
see ! Although since the dear man loves Josie he shall have her 
if my directions and commands are of any avail with the wilful 
young creature. But I must go and see where she has taken 
herself off to ! [Exit Patience. 



SCENE II. — Parlor. Mr. Thompson walking uneasily up 
and down. 

Enter Josie. 

Mr. Thompson (coming forward). Good afternoon, Miss Reed! 
delighted to see you ! fine day I'm sure ! 

Josie. Very fine ! (aside)' The idea of a man of his age to 
come spooning around me ! and he a widower, too ! I know he 
feels as awkward and uncomfortable as can be, and he deserves 



THE WBONG MAN. 135 

to, for not having more sense ; so I don't mean to help him out, 
a bit. 

Mr. Thompson (twirling his thumbs). It was such a fine day, 
you see, that I thought I'd come over to— to— see you ! 

Josie {aside). Thank you for nothing! (aloud) Yes, the day 
is pleasant ; hut I should think it would be more agreeable out 
of doors. 

Mr. Thompson. "Well, that depends a good deal on circum- 
stances. I rind it more satisfactory, here, just at present. 

Josie (aside). I can't agree to a similar feeling on my side. 
(aloud) Every one to his taste, I suppose, Mr. Thompson. 

Mr. Thompson. Yes, yes, that's so ! a very just remark, Miss 
Reed. But this isn't what I came to say, exactly. You see, I 
hare long felt, Miss Josie — {stops confused). 

Josie (aside). Like an old simpleton ! (aloud) What did you 
wish to observe, Mr. Thompson ? 

Mr. Thompson (frantically). I may as well pitch right in, 
head foremost ! You see Miss Josie the matter is just this. I've 
long. felt a growing attachment for you, and I want to make you 
my wife. I wrote to your aunt about it t'other day, askin' her 
to break it kinder gently to you, and then I fixed upon this after- 
noon to come over an' finish the business. 

Josie (aside). Well really ! one might think he was buying 
a cow or a horse for all the romance or sentiment he puts into the 
transaction ! so different from my dear Charley — I can't believe 
that horrible story about him even yet ! (aloud) Well, Mr. 
Thompson ? 

Mr. Thompson. Can I tell the parson to have us " read out " 
next Sunday, Miss Josie ? 

Josie. By no means, Mr. Thompson ! 

Mr. Thompson. Why, ain't you going to— to — 

Josie. Mr. Thompson, while I thank you for the compliment, 
the connection you solicit is absolutely "and entirely out of the 
question. There is no inducement strong enough to gain my 
consent to marry you. 

Mr. Tro^ipso^ (aghast). Why, I thought — 

Josie. Yery likely! and like a great many other excellent 
people before you, have found yourself mistaken. 

Mr. Thompson. But, Miss Josie, your aunt certainly gave me 
to understand — 

Josie. Mistakes will occur even in the best regulated families. 
My good aunt has merely added her name to the list that is all. 

Mr. Thompson. But I did think such a sight of you, Josie ! 
has it all got to go for nothing? I was building such hopes on it. 

Josie (seriously). I thank you for your good opinion, Mr. 
Thompson. I feel that you think better of me even than I de- 
serve, perhaps ; and I am sorry for your disappointment, but I 
cannot accept your offer. 



136 THE WRONG MAN. 

Mr. Thompson (after a pause). Then there's not the slimmest 
chance for me, Josie? You're dead sure you couldn't even take 
a shine to me under any circumstances ? 

Josie. There is no chance at all, Mr. Thompson; aud I am 
sure you will be very triad one day, that I have refused you this 
afternoon. You need a wife older and more experienced than I 
am, — Aunt Patience, for instance! Marry her, Mr. Thompson, 
and I promise to he the best niece you ever had ! 

Mr. Thompson. I haven't given'it a thought. I couldn't think 
of anybody alongside of you, you know. 

Josie. Think of it now, then, Mr. Thompson ; and let your 
thoughts resolve themselves into acts! It's never too late to 
mend, you know, and there is a chance that you never may meet 
with again. Aunt Patience is just the very one for you ; active, 
industrious, and economical — not such a fly-away as I am, who 
would give you more trouble in a month than she would in a 
year. You'd soon get worn out with my waywardness, Mr. 
Thompson, and think to-day's transaction was the worst piece of 
business you ever undertook in your life ; while you'll be more 
and more" delighted with Aunt Patience every day that you live 
with her, and will consider me the best creature in the world for 
making such a valuable suggestion. 

Mr. Thompson. I know she is a most excellent and worthy 
lady, Miss Josie, and I esteem her very highly, but — 

Josie. But because you have neglected so "long to act like a 
sensible man, its uo reason why you shouldn't begin now ; but 
whether you accept my advice or'not, please never to speak to me 
again, on this subject/ Mr. Thompson ! (Aunt Patience appears 
at door,) come in, Auntie ! we're not talking secrets! how are 
the little white chrysanthemums getting along. 

Aunt Patience.' Nicely ! good afternoon, Mr. Thompson ! I 
hope you find yourself well. 

Mr. Thompson. Yf ell, yes'm ; tolerably so. 

Aunt Patience. I'm sorry if you feel undisposed ! [aside to 
Josie) TYhat have you been saying to him, Josie ? 

Josie (aside to her). Just what I had made up my mind to do, 
all the morning, Auntie ! 

Aunt Patience (aside to her). You cruel, ungrateful girl ! 
(a knock) Yfho's that ? 

Enter Charley Sherwood. 

Oh! some people can never learn to keep away from where they're 
not wanted ! What brought you here, sir ? 

Charley. The ordinary means of locomotion, I believe, Aunt 
Patience ! my two feet ! 

Aunt Patience. I think its time you learned to speak a little 
more respectfully to your betters, and also understood that your 
visits here can be dispensed with ! 



THE WRONG MAN. 137 

Charley. I beg pardon for any intentional disrespect, Miss 
Reed ! but I was not aware that I had done anything to debar me 
from an occasional visit to friends whom I esteem so highly ! 

Aunt Patience {stiffly). Oh, if you come as a friend, merely, 
all very well ! and as a, friend, permit me to restore to you your 
lost property, whose loss must have embarrassed you; whose 
discovery has opened my niece's eyes to the true value of such a 
nice young man as you profess to be ! 
(ltd n'ds him papers.) 

Josie (aside). Oh Charley ! Charley! if you fail under this 
ordeal. I shall never have faith in another living person! I shan't 
want to live myself, any longer ! 

Mr. Thompson. What does all this mean, I wonder? Seems 
to me matters are getting mixed up in a mighty queer fashion, 
here ! 

Charley {reading papers). Ha ! ha ! ha ! Oh, Aunt Patience, 
you have found a mare's nest, indeed ! 

Josie {joyfully). I lenew he was innocent— the darling ! 

Mr. Thompson. This is the queerest tangle that ever I was in ! 

Aunt Patience {indignantly). Why, the impudent youug 
scoundrel ! 

Charley. I am really very sorry to have lost those papers, 
Miss Reed ; and I am free to'confess I would rather have had the 
facts they insinuate kept secret— 

Aunt Patience {interrupting). Oh, I haven't the slightest 
doubt of it ! I'm glad you have the grace to acknowledge it ; 
but you might be sure such disreputable practices would come 
out some time or other ! 

Josie. But, Oh, Charley, Charley, you surely haven't— 

Charley {smiling). However since concealment is no longer 
of any avail, I must throw myself upon Mr. Thompson's tender 
mercies— for whom I purchased the articles as a favor to him, on 
account of his disability to visit New York, just then ! 

Josie {clapping Iter hands). Hurrah! Hurrah! 

Aunt Patience [astounded). Can I believe my ears ! 

Mr. Thompson (taking the papers). I always keep a receipt 
you know, Charley, and I'm obliged to you for the accommoda- 
tion. You see I'd been down only a while before to have my 
old stumps taken out and the new impression taken, and I 
couldn't very well get off again, and the hay not in— so my 
young friend here very cleverly undertook to do the errand for 
me, as he had business in the city. You'd never a known it, 
would you ! 

Josie. Ha ! ha ! ha ! We never suspected it, did we, Auntie ? 
Why only the other day, Mr. Thompson, Auntie was saying what 
a fine head of hair you had,— didn't you, Auntie ? 

Aunt Patience (blushing). Hush, child ! well I am beat ! 

Josie (aside). Now or never is the chance for the furtherance 



138 THE WRONG MAN. 

of my project ! Aunt Patience will forgive all such harmless 
peccadilloes, I guess ! (aloud) Charley, there are some grapes on 
the arbor that I want, but I can't reach them. You are just tall 
enough , will you get them for me ? 

Charley. To be sure I will you little darling ! I understand 
well enough what you're after ! We'll leave them to settle the 
matter between themselves ! [Exit Charley and Josie. 

Aunt Patience. Well, I'll give up after this ! I shouldn't be a 
bit surprised now, to see an earthquake this blessed minute. 

Mr. Thompson. It hasn't made you feel so bad as that, has it, 
Miss Keedf I don't exactly understand this business, but if I 
have offended you in any way I most humbly crave your pardon ! 

Aunt Patience (aside). The dear man ! after all it is'nt so 
much to be wondered at in one of his years ; and it does give 
him a fine appearance, certainly! (aloud) Don't give yourself any 
solicitude on that point, Mr. Thompson. What might have been 
quite reprehensible in a young fellow like that Charley, is entirely 
excusable and quite natural at a maturer age! 

Mr. Thompson (aside). I declare she's most as pretty as Josie, 
after all, and don't look so much older, either. Perhaps it would 
be more sensible after all to— well I'll see what she thinks about it. 

Aunt Patience. Let me assure you, Mr. Thompson, that you 
have lost no place in my regard or esteem because of this little 
discovery. 

Mr. Thompson. Miss Patience, your great kindness emboldens 
me to think what a happy man I would be, if this unfortunate cir- 
cumstance might by some happy turn of fortune, enable me to 
gain a firmer and larger place in your regard ! 

Aunt Patience (aside). Bless" my soul ! is the dear man act- 
ually going to propose to me after all ! (aloud) I don't exactly 
understand you, Mr. Thompson; what did you mean to infer? 

Mr. Thompson. Miss Patience, I've about made up my mind 
that I've been mistaken in this venture of mine, and have been 
trying to tackle the matter at the wrong end. Your niece and I 
didn't get along at all together, this afternoon, and — 

Aunt Patience. Perhaps you didn't deal judiciously with her, 
Mr. Thompson! She is a little wayward — all girls are— and 
maybe — 

Mr. Thompson. No, it isn't that, I said all to her that I know'd 
how, an' I don't believe we'd hitch no how. Now you, Miss 
Patience— you've got sense and experience, and— well, you ought 
to have heard Josie praise you— about the best words she said in the 
whole time- and I think you'd suit me first rate! Whatdoyousay? 

Aunt Patience. Well, really, Mr. Thompson— I — 

Mr. Thompson. Miss Patience, every moment I look at you I 
like you better and better— and keep thinking what an old gump 
I was to be running after a mere girl, when there was so much 
better ones to be had. I think I can transfer all my love from 



THE WRONG MAN. 139 

her to you and not feel it ! She told me I'd be glad some day 
she didn't take me. and I declare I begin to feel it already ! Let 
the young folks go their way together, and we'll settle down an' 
be a real lovin' cozy old couple. Is it yes, Patience ? 
(takes her hand.) 

Aunt Patience. If you really feel that you love me, Mr. 
Thompson ! 

Mr. Thompson. I'm sure of it, now ! Things do turn out 
wonderful curus, after all, don't they? I didn't think when I 
come over this afternoon after Josie, that it would end by my 
getting you! 

Aunt Patience. Perhaps I'm too hasty in accepting you. 
You may regret your choice when it will be too late. 

Mr. Thompson. No fear of that, Patience ! I'm on the right 
tack at last, thank goodness ! So this settles the matter ! {kissing 
her) and we'll be married as soon as you can get your fixin's 
ready ! 

Enter Josie and Charley. 

Charley. Miss Patience, I have won Josie's consent to make 
her my wife ; can I have yours '? 

Aunt Patience. "With all my heart ! (blushing) Josie, go and 
speak to your prospective uncle ! 

Josie (throwing her arms around her neck). Aunt Patience, 
you're a darling ! I'll love you to the very last day of my life ! 

Charley. And what am I to do in such a case ? 

Josie. Oh, I'll give you a few of the spare crumbs now and 
then ; you'll have to get along upon that ! 

Charley. I don't promise compliance with any such conditions! 
But come, you haven't obeyed your Aunt yet. 

Josie (extending her hand). Uncle Thompson, let me con- 
gratulate you most sincerely ; and tell you that I like you a 
thousand times better in your new character. 

Charley. It seems to me that I am coming in for a remarka- 
bly small share of this young lady's affections after all ! Have 
you fixed the day, Aunt Patience. 

Aunt Patience. Yes ! he wouldn't give me any peace until I did! 

Charlev. Then Josie and I will be married the same day — 
with your leave, of course, my love ! and we'll have a fine 
wedding ! 

Josie. And the " wrong man " has resolved himself into the 
right one in each case hasn't he, Aunt Patience ? 

Aunt Patience. "We'll say no more about it Josie ! I'm sat- 
isfied. So go and see if that cake is done, for Charley and Mr. 
Thompson are going to stay to tea. 

CUBTAIN. 



TOM'S PROPOSAL. 

AN EXHIBITION DIALOGUE. 



CHAR A CTERS. 

Tom, a young farmer. 

Debby, Tom's deceased father's ward. 

Joe, a rustic fop. 



SCENE. — Stage arranged as the kitchen of a farm-house. Debby 
discovered kneading dough. Tom seated opposite smoking. 
For a second or more after curtain rises Debby seems intent 
upon her work, while Tom meditatively puffs his pipe. 

Tom. I say, Debby. 

Debby (without raising her eyes). What is it, Tom? 

Tom. Don't you think it's time for me to marry, now that my 
poor old father is gone, and has left everything to me. I ought 
to keep up the name and dignity of the family, and all that sort 
of thing. A farmer, you know, don't amount to much without 
a wife —Leastwise, this is my opinion. 

Debby (busies herself with dough). I guess you're right, Tom; 
I'd like to see you married— that is, if you choose the right sort 
of girl. (Sighs.) 

Tom (meditatively). TJ — m — m — Seems to me that ought to be 
easy enough, 'specially when I've got you and Mammy Brown 
to help me. 

Debby (lets sifter fall, picks it up ; aside). Me help him to get 
a stick to break my own head. (To Tom.) It does seem so. 

Tom. You womenfolks are powerful sharp, and I'm no fool. 
There's lots and lots of girls round here that would jump at the 
offer to become mistress of Brier- Ridge farm. The neighborhood 
is full of agreeable young ladies. 

Debby (aside), it's plain he's not thinking of me. (Sighs ; to 
Tom.) Yes —I suppose— they are— as far as I know. 

Tom. Yes, indeed! For instance, there's Kitty Lyons; 0, but 
she's a fine looking girl ! 

Debby (spitefully). And about as fit for a farmer's wife as 
this sifter is to hold water ! Catch her helping you to keep money. 
(Shrugs shoulders.) She knows though how to spend it. 

Tom. You're right, Debby; — but she's not the only one — 
140 



tom's proposal. 141 

I'm sure there is Jane Hill, and Nettie Greenleaf— They are both 
nice, tidy, industrious girls. 

Debby (rolls dough in a mass, gives it a sound slap). None of 
them any good at all as a wife for a stirring business man like 
you. Torn. That's just what I've always been afraid of. (Tom 
"takes pipe from mouth, looks iconderingly at Debby.) You 
needn't look that way, I mean it. You'll go and throw your- 
self away on some girl that hasn't sense enough to do you credit. 
Besides,' Nettie's engaged to Bob Bridge,— and as for Jane, she is 
a horrid flirt, and yon know it. 

Tom. True enough, but what objection can be brought against 
Callie Sharp ? 

Debby {turns with face to Tom, holds rolling pin in one hand). 
Her name suits her, for she has a sharp temper. You couldn't 
live with a woman like her. It wouldn't be a year before you'd 
sue for a divorce. 

Tom (takes pipe from mouth). Do you think so? 

Debby (shortly). Yes. I do. 

Tom. Well! (draws a long breath). I don't suppose I could. 
I'm so used to Mammy Brown's even temper, and your pleasant 
ways, Debby, that I doubt if I could put up with ill nature, even in 
a wife. But, see here ! (brightens) What's the matter with 
Maggie Wilson ? She is a real beauty, and then she has got some 
money. How will she suit ? 

Debby (aside). I was afraid of her pretty face. I don't believe 
Tom cares anything for me (busies herself arranging dough in 
pans). 

Tom. Did you hear me, Debby ? 

Debby. Yes, I heard you. Maggie is pretty, like a doll, — ■ 
but if it is money you are after sfre'will suit well. 

Tom (interrupts). You must know, Debby, it is not money 
alone I desire ; but if the girl is good and pretty the dollars will 
not come amiss. I think I'll call and see Mag at any rate. 
There'll be nothing wrong in looking about me, and making 
some arrangements in reference to the future, (rises, shakes ashes 
from pipe, pulls down his vest, ivalks to and fro.) 

Debby (aside). How can I see him many any other woman ? 
I'll sound him! (arranges bread in pan, covers" it, sets it aside, 
while Tom saunters up and down, his hands crossed behind him, 
seemingly absorbed in thought.) You are very well off, Tom, as 
far as I know, and seem happy : why then do you want a wife ? 
Tom (pauses). "Well, you know Debby, in the first place, the old 
man was anxious for me to marry some time before he died. The 
truth is he used to say he had a girl in his eye that would just suit me 
— tidy and good tempered, and a nice housekeeper, and besides 
owned some money of her own — He must have meant Mag — (ap- 
pears to be trying to solve the question whether or not "Mag" is 
Ms father's choice.) 



142 tom's proposal. 

Debby {aside). How can he be so blindly stupid? His father 
has said often and oyer that his heart was set upon seeing Tom 
and myself married and settled here upon the old place, (to 
Tom) Don't I— (embarrassed) I mean that with Mammy Brown's 
help, don't tee Seep the house nice, aud don't we try to make 
things pleasant for you f (twists corner of apron ) 

Tom. Of course you do, the house is like wax for that matter; 
but this is not like having a wife. — You must be aware, my dear 
child, that a farmer ought to be a married man. It looks more 
like business ; and then a fellow wants somebody to love him 
aud look after his interests. 

Debby (petulantly). Well ! don't Mammy Brown and I look 
after your interests ? Don't we love you ! 

Tom (approaches table wliere Debby stands holding a basket 
she has just taken in her hand, preparatory to starting out). 
Certainly, Debby, you love me and I love you and Mammy 
Brown too— just like kin. What else could we do, raised together 
as we have been, ever since the day my father accepted your 
guardianship when you were so high (suits action to word) my 
having a wife won't alter this.— Don't fret— (strokes Debby's hair 
back from temples), you will have a home here all the same ; and 
if Mag shouldn't understand about keeping the house, yon can 
teach her. 

Debby (aside— withdraws from Tom's touch). Never ! Mr. 
Tom — (to Tom). Don't count too much on thai; I'm not teach- 
ing other girls to keep house, —besides (crosses to opposite en- 
trance, tosses head) I may be married myself by that time — But 
I must go after the apples, (jerks up basket, exit walking erect 
and defiant). 

Tom (amazed— looks after Debby). Why ! What's come 
over the girl ? I never saw her act like that ! Her eyes fairly 
flashed — (continues to watch Debby). By George ! I believe the 
child is crying; she is wiping her eyes. What a perfectly formed 
creature she is to be sure - and since I come to think of it, she is 
one of the prettiest girls T ever saw. It was only the other day 
she was bobbing round my father's knees in short dresses, a mere 
child. But the idea of Debby marrying is too absurd ! Gad ! but 
she spunked up like a Georgia major — (continues to watch Debby) 
and to think of telling me outright that she might be married by 
the time I am. Ha ! Ha ! I believe I'll saddle Black Foot and 
ride over to Wilson's — (pauses). Humph ! She married ; who the 
dickens put such a notion in the child's head— (looks out). Bless 
my life she is coming back with the fruit ! I thought she had 
hardly reached the orchard. ! but Debby is worth her weight 
in gold, I do not believe the farm could go on without her. —I 
wish whoever set her to thinking of a husband had been doing 
something else. Guess I had better go and saddle the mare if I 
expect to see Mag to-day. [Exit Tom, r. 



tom's proposal,. 14:3 

Enter Debby, l. 

Debby (sets basket of fruit down wearily — sinlcs upon a seat). 
I was afraid I'd find Tom here still, and that he would stay till I 
came from the orchard, -^ow that I know he cares nothing for 
me except as a sister, I do not like to he where he is— (takes an 
apple and begins to peel it): Heigho ! I hav'nt the heart to make 
the preserves— {bows head upon hand as she rests against table; 
raises head, dries her eyes). It is not so much that he doesn't 
care for me as that he doesn't think of me at all. If he would 
ever think, then he might care — "child," indeed! (sneers). I'll 
show him I'm no child, and as for living on the same -with— Mag 
Wilson (curls. Up with contempt), mistress of Brier Kiclge, I'll 
never submit— (bows head, sobs). She can never love— love— 
him — as— I— do — no ! no ! (cries). 

Enter Joe unobserved by Debby. 

Joe (looks wonder ingly at Debbv, pauses, steps forward, 
draws back). She's a crying for sure — well ! This heats my 
time (grimaces) I never seen them bright orbs of hern in that line 
afore. I wonder ef Tom's been treatin' her amiss sense the old 
man died. — That can't be, fur he sets an awful sight of store by 
" our Debby" as he calls her— (rubs hands, brightens) inebbe 
the poor girl is in love— an' with me ! (chuckles). Ef I could 
only b'leeve it ! T' won't be no harm to talk round a bit, (tip toes 
nearer to Debdy, draws back; grimaces— Debby sighs; Joe starts, 
clenches fist). By the eternal ! ef I find anybody's been hurtin' 
her feelin's they've got to count to Joe Watts — That's the kind of 
man I am, (softly). Debby ! (wiggles his body to and fro, gri- 
maces, draws nearer to Debby, touches her arm). Debby— 
H — em — Miss Deborah ! 

Debby starts, wipes eyes). Why, Joe, is that you? 

Joe. I rather think it is. 

Debby (forces laugh). Eeally you caught me in the dumps. 
Take a chair — (Joe seats himself beside Debby). 

Joe. Thank 'ee,— I was sayin' to myself that you looked down 
in the mouth— Has anybody hurt your feelins ? because if they 
have, I'll wear 'em out— (doubles fist). I ain't afeerd of no 
Li vm creeter (turns; looks Debby full in face). Tell me! has 
anybod— 

Debby (interrupts). Oh no! no! Joe — only a headache. 

Joe. Only a headache ! Yaas I know, (shrugs shoulders in- 
credulously) . 

Debby. Indeed. I am subject to headache — 

Joe. So is mother whenever the old man scolds, and Sister 
Sally always has the headache when she's in one of her tantrums. 
Ya'as, I understand. 

Debby (instead of laughing as Joe expects, sighs — ). Indeed? 



144 tom's proposal. 

Joe. Ton must have a pretty bad spell, for your face is as long 
as my arm (suits action to word). 

Debby (aside). It will never do to let him suspect the truth. 
(to Joe). Did I look serious? I assure you I was never iu finer 
spirits. 

Joe. You might tell that to somebody that's green ; but you 
see, Joe Watts knows better -{suddenly). P'raps you are iu love 
— (blows cheeks out with his breath, looks askance at Debby, who 
sighs and looks down). 

Joe (aside). I wonder what that sighin' means. I b'leeve the 
poor girl is piuingin secret — dead in love with mc an' too modest 
to say so. 

Debby (aside). What shall I talk about? (to Joe). What is 
the news, Joe? 

Joe (starts, puts his hand in pocket produces a letter—). I 
was down to the store an' brought you this. 

Debby (siezes letter, glances at address). Thank you, Joe; it 
is from my brother, who is at school — but you need not have gone 
out of your way for me —(coquetUshly). 

Joe. Do you know, Debby, I'd go a thousand miles out of my 
way to please you— (siezes Debby's hand). There's no use cry- 
in' your eyes out, an'grievin' yourself, — that is, if you're cryin' 
about what / thiuk — If you love me, Debby, just say so, (glides 
arm about Debby's waist). As for me I've been in love with you 
all the time and I ask you now to be my own dear, darling, sweet, 
little wife. 

Enter Tom. 

Joe. Say, precious, will you marry your own dear Joe. 

Debby (perceives Tom, shrieks, jerks from Joe's touch). 

Joe (sees Tom, gathers up hat, rises, starts to opposite en- 
trance). Farewell, love. I'll come to-morrow for a straightfor'- 
ard answer. I Exit Joe twirling hat over hand. 

Debby (rises, stands, twists corner of apron). 

Tom (excitedly). This is pretty conduct ! What was that fel- 
low saying to you? What did he want ? Speak ! 

Debby (with downcast eyes). He was saying he loved me — 
and wants me to be his wife. 

Tom (more excitedly). His wife ! You? I am astonished be- 
yond reason, Debby, at the idea of your encouraging a conceited 
brainless ape, —greener than a gourd in August ! — a child like 
you ! Ridiculous, (folds arms, scowls). 

Debby (looks steadily at Tom). No, Tom, not ridiculous, you 
seem determined never to concede the fact that I am a child no 
longer. I am eighteen and there is no reason why, as you are 
going to choose a wife that I may not choose a husband — (aside). 
I'll make him think I would be silly enough to marry Joe Watts, 
(to Tom). "It's a poor rule that won't work both ways." 



tom's pboposal. 145 

Tom. Poor fiddlesticks ! Why, it was but the other day you 
■were in short dresses, — and besides— 

Debby {interrupts). I am as old as Maggie Wilson. 

Tom. Maggie Wilson may go to thunder ! Who said anything 
about Mag. Wilson ? 

Debby. That is not the question. Tour father said often and 
over that I was a good girl. -He praised my housekeeping and 
darning, and by his generosity I have saved some money, for 
you know he allowed me to sell all the butter and eggs not used 
by the family — to say nothing of the socks I've knit— and I can't 
see, if there were strong reasons why you should ask Mag. Wil- 
son to marry you, why it is strange that somebody wouldTask to 
marry me. 

Tom. All this is very good logic, — but of all creatures — Joe 
Watts! a country coxcomb, and an unmitigated fool in the bargain. 

Debby. I'm sure Joe knows how to make and save money, and 
he has plenty of ambition, — another thing {falters) he says he — 
he — 1 — o — v — e — s me. 

Tom. And do you suppose no one else loves you? Little girl! 
little girl ! I can't think of your sacrificing yourself, and— {sinks 
on a chair and covers face with hands)— ! Debby, don't marry 
him ! 

Debby {draws close to Tom). Who then, Tom, shall I marry? 

Tom. Sit down, little girl, and I will explain. (Debbie seats 
herself "beside Tom) The fact is I never thought of your marrying 
at all — I never dreamed that the time could come when you'd 
be willing to leave me. Do you know {takes Debby's hand) I 
could not stand a separation — I never spoke to you of marriage 
because you seemed such a child — 

Debby {impatiently, jerks hand away). But I'm not a child! 

Tom. Yes, I know — you are a woman, a dear, sweet, little 
woman, and I love you more than all the world. I did not ask 
you to marry me be — 

Debby {interrupts). You say you never asked me to be your 
wife, but that was not my fault, 'dear Tom — 

Tom {brightens). "Dear Tom." Then you do love me, Debby, 
just a little ? I ask you now to be my wife. 

Debby {mischievously). What will Maggie Wilson say ? 

Tom {embarrassed). Hang Maggie Wilson ! 

Debby {demurely). But think, dear Tom. what will Joe Watts 
say? 

Tom. Let Joe Watts go to the — 

Debby {interrupts by placing handover Tom's moutli). IZo bad 
words, sir. in my presence — 

Toil (suddenly throws Debby's hand aside, catches the other 
within his own, attempts to put arm about Debby's waist. Deb- 
by struggles to release herself). Ixo, my little woman, I'll never 
let you go until you say you will marry me, — 



H6 MR. hunter's mistake. 

Debby v struggling). Don't you think that is rather a forcible 
way to make me consent ? (ceases to struggle) Upon my word, 
I begin to iind the situation far from unpleasant. I can stand it 
as long as you can (laughs). 
Tom. "Well, that's reasonable ! — now, tell me — 
Debby. Tell you ! — tell you ! — you are in a terrible hurry now, 
but it took you an awful while to discover that you cared one 
straw for me — 
Tom. Oh, Debby ! you must have known— 
Debby (archly). "Well, if I must— I've half a mind to say no, 
but— (earnestly) — Tom, dear Tom, I will.— (both come forward) 
—But— 

Before the curtain falls I'll say 

To all these ladies fair. 
Whenever a lover you would make 

His sentiments declare, 
Lead him to think some other chap 

His love on you bestows, 
And just that quick (snaps Angers) to you he'll fly 
And instantly propose. 

CURTAIN. 



MR. HUNTER'S MISTAKE. 



CRAB A C TEES. 



Mr. Hunter. 
Fannie, his wife. 
Mrs. Smith. 



Mr. Wheeler. 
Carrie, his wife. 
Mrs. Brown. 
Maid. 



SCEXE I.— Sitting-room. Enter Mr. Hunter and. Fannie. 

Mr. Hunter. Xow Fannie, my love, our honey-moon is ended 
—that is, the period usually recognized as such by society. The 
marriage knot has been fairly tied, and you are really mine, are 
you not ? 

Fannie. Really yours? What a question ! Of course I am. 
my dear George ! You, and no other, won my consent to mat- 
rimony ; you, and no other, stood up with me before the minster, 
and you, and no other, have brought me, at this, the close of our 
honey-moon, to this charming little home ! Is that sufficiently 
explicit to satisfy you ? If so, let me ask in turn whatever put 
it into your head to ask me such a ridiculous question ? 



MR. hunter's mistake. 147 

Mr. Hunter. It is by no means a ridiculous question in my 
estimation, I can assure you, Fannie ! The month allotted to 
me by my senior partner for our wedding trip has expired, and I 
must return to business, consequently I won't have the time to 
take you out and around that I have had formerly. 

Fannie. Certainly, I understand that, George ! I don't ex- 
pect, either, to spend so much time in pleasuring as we have 
done. My household duties will occupy my attention, you 
know, and then if I want to go out shopping, or for a little walk, 
I will probably have some one to accompany me, for I shall ex- 
expect no end of company, now that I am home — for awhile, at 
least. 

.iiR. Hunter {gloomily). Yes, I know ! and that's just where 
the trouble comes in ! 

Fannie. Trouble ? what trouble ! your words are a perfect 
enigma to me, my dear George ! Come, sit down here, and 
tell me what you mean, {they seat themselves.) 

Mr. Hunter. Fannie, you have it in your power to make me 
either the happiest or the most wretched of men ! Which would 
you rather do * 

Fannie {pouting), H'm ! You told me on a certain day when 
I answered "yes" to a particular question of yours, that I had 
made you the happiest of men, already ! 

Mr. Hunter. And yet the very next time I took you to a party, 
the impudent puppies, entirely ignoring the fact of our en- 
gagement, had the presumption to gather around you as thickly as 
ever, and engage you for some one of the dances. I didn't fancy 
at all seeing so much of your time claimed by those fops, while 
I was obliged to mope alone in the corner ! I, who I'm sure had 
the best right to you ! 

Fannie. Why, my dear George, how severe you are ! They 
were every one of them, gentleraeu, and more or less intimate 
friends of mine ! I danced with you the most of the time, too, 
and when you said you were tired, and didn't feel like waltzing 
any more, then I accepted another partner ! I hope you're not 
jealous of me, are you ? 

Mr. Hunter. Well, Fannie, to be candid with you, I'll just 
say that I am ! It was as much as I could bear to see them 
look at or even speak to you, but as for dancing with you ! 
Bah ! you don't know how it made me feel to see that Morton's 
arm around your waist ! I could have strangled him with pleas- 
ure ! And, Fannie, I want you to promise that you will dance 
with no one but me at the parties we may attend this winter. I 
don't mind your talking with them in a sociable way, but I can't 
stand any more— Xow, do promise, Fannie! 

Fannie (deprecatingly). Dear ! dear ! If I had known you 
was such an exacting tyrant as all this, I would have thought 
twice before I accepted you ! However, rather than distress 



148 ME. RUNTEB's MISTAKE. 

yon, I'll promise that much. I would rather give up dancing 
altogether, than enjoy it at the expense of your peace of mind ! 

Mr. Hunter {rapturously). Fannie, you're an angel ! 

Fannie (laughing). I'm glad you entertain so high an opinion 
of me! But 1 can't sec yet, exactly, "what all this has to do 
with your lugubrious face and odd words. That happened so 
long ago, that I shouldn't suppose you'd think it worth while 
to trouble yourself about it. What other dreadful things have I 
been doing? 

Mr. Hunter. I don't accuse you of doing anything else, but 
I want to prevent any mischief of a similar kind. 

Fannie. Well, really, George, you do love to be mys- 
terious ! For goodness sake, speak out, and tell me what you 
mean ! 

Mr. Hunter. "Well, Fannie, this is what T mean. I see that 
already, the short week that we've been home, your table is 
crowded with invitations to go out. Now, I want you to prom- 
ise me another thing— that you won't go out anywhere without 
me? 

Fannie. Why, of course I shall go to no evening entertain- 
ments without you. But for a ride - in the afternoon, or a short 
stroll, or a little shopping,— 

Mr. Hunter. No, not to any of these, either! Let me know the 
days when you have shopping to do, or particularly desire a 
walk, audi will try to get leave of absence from business, and 
accompany you. 

Fannie. Why, my dear husband ! What occasion is there for 
all that ceremony ? * Why can't I go out with my friends if I 
wish to ? 

Mr. Hunter. Remember, Fanny, if I lose you, I lose every- 
thing that's worth living for. 

Fannie (smiling^, Granted, for the sake of argument! But 
that doesn't enlighten me a bit. 

Mr. Hunter. You know, Fanny, that when I won your con- 
sent to be my wife I took you from a host of admirers. 

Fannie. Well? 

Mr. Hunter. And, notwithstanding the fact that you arc now 
married to me, they will probably be no less disposed to admire 
yon still. 

Fannie (jocosely). Well, if the poor creatures find any com- 
fort or patisfaction in admiring me, why not ? 

Mr. Hunter [groaning). And if, through their admiration, 
your affections should be alienated from me — that's "why 
not.'' too, I suppose ! 

Fannie (playfully pulling his hair). Why, what a jealous old 
goose, you are, to be sure ! Do you think my affections are 
worth no more than that? 

Mr. Hunter. Fannie, I know you're a darling, and I never 



MB. hunter's mistake. 149 

dared hope that I should have the happiness of calling my wife ! 
But you're so attractive, and you have so many friends,— and if 
eventually I should grow by comparison less desirable in your 
eyes, and you should be left to regret our union — 

Fannie." 0, hush ! hush ! hush ! you absurd man ! (putting 
her hand over his mouth) So, for fear that I should forget you, 
or fall in love with somebody else, you are going to turn into a 
regular Blue-beard, and lock me up at home all day ! That's 
a pretty w r ay to treat your wife, I must say ! How do you calcu- 
late I'm going to get any fresh air ? 

Mr. Hunter. Why, on Sundays, I will be at home all day, 
and can go out with you to church, you know ! 

Fannie. On Sundays ! h'm ! that'll be very nice, but what am 
I to do for the rest of the week ? 

Mr. Hunter. The rest of the week ? Well, — you can have 
the windows open, and that will let in plenty of air ; and then you 
can walk up and down the garden, too — 

Fannie (pouting). A delightful prospect, truly. So when I 
want exercise I am obliged to perambulate around in a little 
"seven by nine" back yard, or else standby the window for half 
an hour. 

Mr. Hunter. You needn't stand yon know ! you can sit 
down ; there are plenty of chairs -only, Fannie — don't go by the 
window, when anybody is passing by/will you? 

Fannie. Well I declare ! worse and worse ! I'm not even to be 
allowed the rarity of a view of my fellow creatures ! Where's 
the harm of my looking at a few passers by in the street? 

Mr. Hunter. Why they might look up and see you, you 
know, and then you might— 

Fannie (interrupting). They might fall in love with me, and 
come and carry me off right under your very nose ! My dear 
George, you are right down— ridiculous. There ! 

Mr. Hunter (despairingly). There it is ! I see the beginning 
already— you ridicule me even now ! you'll soon learn to despise 
me ! and then — complete estrangement is the inevitable denoue- 
ment ! 

Fannie. Oh dear! well if yon will think so, I don't see how 
it can be helped ! 

Mr. Hunter. Fannie if you will promise to comply with my 
requests, you will effectually banish all my fears and apprehen- 
sions, and make me perfectly happy. Can you not do this much 
for me ? 

Fannie. Yes, my dear George, I will. Go to your counting 
room and set your mind completely at rest. I promise not to 
leave the house until you return this evening. 

Mr. Hunter. Fannie, you are an angel ! 

Fannie (laughing). I do begin to feel the wings growing ! and 
now that your mind is easy, do hurry off or your partners will be 



150 MR. hunter's mistake. 

coming np bore in a body thinking you've defaulted or some 
other dreadful thing. Goodbye. 

Mr. Hunter (embracing her). Goodbye, rny love ! Remember 
my injunctions ! 

FANNIE (with a wry face). Ob, I've got an excellent memory ! 

[Exit Mr. Hunter. 

TTcll if this isn't a pretty state of affairs! Here I am to be cooped 
up all day, alone, and not even to show my face at tbe window 
when any one is passing, for fear, forsooth, tbat some one should 
fall in love with me and win my affections from him ! Of all ri- 
diculous, absurd ideas, that caps tbe climax ! and tbe worst of it 
is, he's just as determined as be is jealous, and he'll play tbe 
part of a perfect Bluebeard until be wears me out, I suppose 1 (a 
knock at door). Come in ! 

Enter Maid. 

Maid. Please, ma'am, here's a lady wants to see you I 

Fannie. Show her right in here. 

Maid. Yery well, ma'am. [Exit Maid. 

Enter Mrs. Smith. 

Fannie {springing up). My dear Sarah, how do you do ! 

Mrs. Smith (embracing her). Charmingly, love ! and bow are 
you ? but you need not answer, for one look at your face tells me 
that you are in good health, and ten times prettier than ever I 
How do you like being married ? 

Fannie. Oh, very well ! 

Mrs. Smith. I'm glad to hear it, always knew George Hun- 
ter would make a first rate husband. And now that you are mar- 
ried you can go out and be as gay as you please, you know, with- 
out having half a dozen simpletons breaking their hearts for you 
every month — that is they may break them, all tbe same, but 
you won't have to be bothered hearing their sighs and protesta- 
tions and all such like agonies, you see ! "What a girl you were for 
conquests, to be sure; Fannie ! Mr. Hunter ought to have consid- 
ered himself a very lucky man, to carry off the prize before tbe 
whole of them ! I hope he isn't jealous, is he Fannie ? 

Fannie. There's no occasion to be so, now that we are mar- 
ried, Sarah. 

Mrs. Smith. Of course not, — but some men are just sucb 
geese as to be fearfully jealous if their wives happen to possess a 
pretty face. There is no object more ridiculous and pitiful to 
my eyes, than a jealous husband ! — but tbat isn't what I came 
here to say ! my carnage is at the door, and I want you to come 
out with me, shopping. There are some of just the loveliest dress 
goods at Stewart's, and I am perfectly dying to have you see them 
— besides I want your taste to aid my selections. So get ready as 
quick as you can, there's a darling, and we'll lunch at Delmon- 



MR. hunter's mistake. 151 

ico's. The air is delightful, and it will be perfectly splendid. 

Fannie {aside). "Was there ever anything more trying! — 
{aloud). I dare say it would be, and I am very much obliged to 
you, Sarah, for your kind intention, but I must beg leave to de- 
cline it. 

Mrs. Smith. Decline it? what do you mean, Fannie? 

Fannie {aside). The very thing I should have enjoyed above 
all things ! {aloud). I mean that I cannot accept your kind invita- 
tion for to-day. 

Mrs. Smith. And why not, pray ? there's nothing in the world 
to keep you home ; you've got no sewing or work to do — the day 
is delightful, my carriage ready and waiting, and a ride cannot 
fail to do you good. 2Sow why can't you come ? 

Fannie {aside). A plague on that absurd husband of mine ! 
(aloud) Well Sarah, I don't care about going out to-day. I've 
got a little headache, and — 

Mrs. Smith. Fannie, don't be a simpleton ! or try to impose 
upon me by such a flimsy excuse as that! You've got no more 
of a headache than I have!' and even if you had, a ride would 
be the very best thing for you. 

Fannie (indignantly). Well, I'm much obliged to you, Sarah, 
for doubting my veracity! I'm not going out to-day, and that's 
all about it ! 

Mrs. Smith. Oh, I understand ! I can see through a millstone 
as far as anybody ! It is not that you've got a headache or any- 
thing else; but since you've got married, you feel too big to 
associate with your former friends and acquaintances. I never 
thought that you could be spoiled so completely as that ! 

Fannie. You're exceedingly complimentary, I'm sure, Sarah J 
It's a pity if people cannot exercise freedom over their own actions 
and inclinations without being accused in this way! I never would 
have believed that you would have manifested such a disposition! 

Mrs. Smith (rising). Well, I don't need to be told more than 
once that my company is not wanted ! I think it will be a con- 
siderable time before I take the trouble to call upon you again, 

Fannie. You may suit yourself in that particular, of course, 
I shan't offer the slightest objection ! 

Mrs. Smith. Yery well! I shall remember that! Goodbye 
Mrs. Hunter! 

Fannie (stiffly) Good-day, Mrs. Smith ! 

[Exit Mrs. Smith in a rage. 

Fannie (throwing herself on a chair). This is one of the first 
fruits of marrying a jealous man ! here I've been obliged to refuse 
an offer that I should have enjoyed above all things, and have 
offended one of my most intimate friends that I never spoke a 
hasty word to, before ! George Hunter ! if I don't pull your hair 
when you come home to-night, then my name is not Fannie, 
that's all ! (a knocJc) mercy there's some one else ! 



152 MR. hunter's mistake. 

Enter Maid. 

Maid. Please, ma'am, here's another lady to see yon ! Shall 
she come right in hero? 

Fannie ( impa Hen tty). Yes ! yes ! — I must compose my features 
or she'll see that something is the matter, and suspect that it's 
family trouble ; and I wouldn't have her do that for the world ! 
I won't have folks talking about him, no matter how vexed I 
may feel with him ! 

Enter Mrs. Brown. 

Fannie (rising). Good-morning, Alice ! I'm glad to see you. 

Mrs. Brown. I'm sure of that, dear ! I knew the fact of your 
marriage wouldn't diminish your affection for your old friends ! 
You don't know how dilighted I was yesterday, to hear that you 
were in town again ! 

Fannie. Oh, I've been back over a week ! (aside) thank 
goodness she has only come for a call ! George can't find any 
fault with that I'm sure! I don't believe I'll tell him, anyhow! 

Mrs. Brown. Yes, so I understood ! and I was so vexed with 
myself for not having discovered it before! I really felt as if I 
had slighted you ; although I dare say you have had so much 
company that you would hardly notice the absence of a little 
insignihcent body like me ! 

Fannie. I have had a good many visitors; but you were one 
of my old friends, Alice, and old friends are always the dearest, 
you know ! I'm real glad that you didn't put your visit off any 
longer ! And now do take off your things and spend the day 
with me ! 

Mrs. Brown. Thank you, love. I should be most happy to, 
but I can't to-day. Indeed, I mean to reverse the present state of 
affairs, by turning host myself, and making you my guest ! 

Fannie (aside). Oh, dear ! here's more trouble ahead ! I 
might have known misfortunes would never come singly ! If 
that ridiculous, meddlesome husband of mine was here, I declare, 
I'd be tempted to lock him up in the dark closet for a week ! I 
expect I'll be driven to doing it yet ! 

Mrs. Brown. Just prepare yourself for an afternoon of unmit- 
igated pleasure, my dear Fannie, for my errand here is to an- 
nounce such an arrangement to you. You see, Mr. Brown came 
home last night with three complimentary tickets for a grand ex- 
hibition of paintings this afternoon ; and the moment I saw them 
I told him that that would be the very thing to delight you, as 
you are so very fond of pictures, and that I would come to see 
you this morning, and bring the ticket as a peace offering for 
neglecting you so long, He was just as much pleased with the 
arrangement as I was, for he always admired you— but I don't 
feel a bit jealous, you darling! fori know it's a moral impossi- 
bility for your friends to do otherwise ! So finish whatever little 



MB. hunter's mistake. 153 

trifles yon may have to do this morning, and be ready to start at 
two o'clock, — the carriage will be at the door by that time. Be 
sure yon don't forget — there's a darling. 

Fannie (aside). If it isn't enough to make a body scream right 
ont with vexation and disappointment. Another most splen- 
did chance I've got to refuse, when if it wasn't for that foolish 
husband of mine, I might be enjoying myself all the afternoon. 
It's too bad ! too shameful ! 

Mrs. Brown. So you see, although I did wait so long before 
coming to see you, I thought of your pleasure. My husband says 
the carriage shall be at your service whenever you want it, and 
you needn't be obliged to mope at home for want of an escort 
around. I knew that your husband is busy all day, so I told 
Prank I should consider myself responsible for your entertainment. 
(rising) So au revoir ! and don't forget ! two o'clock ! 

Fannie (aside). I feel almost beside myself with mortification; 
and yet I can't break my promise to George, (aloud) Alice — ■ 

Mrs. Brown. "What's the matter, Fannie ? You're not ill ? 

Fannie (aside). I'm not going to tell any more stories ! and 
yet how to get out of this dilemma otherwise, I don't see ! — 
(aloud) Eo, Alice, not exactly sick— but I must decline your 
kind invitation. I can't go out to-day. 

Mrs. Brown. Oh, now, Fannie ! you're not going to disap- 
point me, truly ! Frank will never forgive me, if go I back to him 
with such an answer. "Why can't you go, you would enjoy it so 
much ! 

Fannie. Yes, I dare say I should ; but I feel tired and not in 
the mood for going out to-day. 

Mrs. Brown. iSTow I'm not going to accept any such excuse 
as that ! The carriage will come right to the door, and you 
needn't walk one step ; so that objection is overruled ! 

Fannie. Well, you must really excuse me for to-day, Alice. 
I shall not be able to go. 

Mrs. Brown. Now, Fannie, this the only chance there'll be 
to see those paintings, and I know you wouldn't want to miss 
seeing them, without some good reason. Now what is the matter ? 

Fannie. The matter is that I can't go, Alice ! although I'm 
very much obliged to you, all the same. 

Mrs. Brown. That's no reason at all, Fannie Hunter! 

Fannie. It's all the reason I can give ! 

Mrs. Brown. Oh ! it's come to that, eh ? Well, I'm sure I 
don't want to inflict my society upon you ; neither does Frank ! 
I'll carry your very polite message to him ! 

Fannie (vexed). Do as you please. I might have known that 
this was all your friendship amounted to ! 

Mrs. Brown. If I had supposed I was going to meet with 
such a reception, I should have waited longer before calling upon 



154 mr. hunter's mistake. 

you ! I'm perfectly surprised at you, Fannie Hunter ! I never 
Supposed you were so artful .' 

,."ie. Artful, indeed ! I'd like to know if I can't be free to 
do as I please, without being accused of being artful! You are 
very impolite, Alice Brown! 

Mrs Brown. When one that professes to be a friend, refuses 
an offer such as I have made you, and without giving me any 
satisfactory reason for it, I don't think she need talk about being 
impolite ! But I'll not waste any more time or words here ! 
When you desire my company, you can write and let me know ! 
I'll not intrude myself upon j'ou before ! 

Fannie. You can suit yourself about that! [Exit Mrs. Brown. 
(Fannie bursts into tears.) 

If it isn't enough to make one apply for a divorce ! If matters 
go on in this way, I sha'n't have a friend left at the end of two 
weeks ! I declare, if Sarah and Alice knew how ashamed I feel 
for having to treat them so, they wouldn't have been so vexed. 
And yet I'm not going to expose George, and have him the 
laughing stock of the whole town — although I don't know that 
there is any other way to cure him, and I can't stand it to have 
this go on much longer ! I'll have to write and tell sister Carrie 
of my troubles, and ask her advice — (a knock)— Oh, dear! there's 
somebody else ! and my eyes as red as possible, too ! 

Enter Maid. 

Maid. A letter, ma'am ! (hands her a letter and exit). 

Fannie. Thank goodness, that wasn't a caller ! — (breaks seal) 
From Carrie 1 the darling ! just as I was thinking of her, too ! 
Let's see what she says ! ' 'My dearest Fannie ! I'm going to 
give you just one week to get used to your new home, and then 
I'm going to come down to see you and that handsome husband 
of yours ! Tom says he's dreadfully jealous, but I told him that 
didn't make the slightest difference'to me! So prepare to receive 
me on the 23rd. — Your loving sister, Carrie !"— The 23rd ! why 
that's to-day! the letter must have got delayed, and she may be 
here at any moment. Oh ! I'm so glad ! (a ring) There she is now! 

Enter Mn. and Mrs. Wheeler. 

Carrie. How do you do, my love ! 

Mr. Wheeler. Good-morning, sister Fannie ! 

Fannie. Just think. I never received your letter until five 
minutes ago ; and I was so surprised and delighted ! 

Carrie.' But you look pale, Fannie— and I declare you've 
been crying ! .What is the matter, my dear? 

Fannie [evasively). Oh nothing ! I was only a little blue and 
low spirited, and — 

Carrie. Tom, you go into the library and look over the books, 
that's a good fellow ! {exit Mr. Wheeler) N ow Fannie, tell me 



me. hunter's mistake. 155 

all about it , and then we'll go this afternoon, and see the paint- 
ings which I understand are on exhibition, that will brighten you 
up and drive away the blues, I guess. Is it George ; has he dis- 
appointed us. and turned out badly after all? 

Fannie. Well not exactly, Carrie, but he's possessed with such 
a spirit of jealousy, that he'has made me promise not to stir out 
of the house without his company, and not even to stand by the 
window when any one is passing, lest forsooth, some one should 
fall in love with me, and alienate my affections from him ! Did 
you ever hear such a preposterous idea ! and this very morning I 
offended seriously, two of my old schoolmates, Alice and Sarah, 
by refusing their invitations to go out with ; them —and I shall 
have to refuse yours too, for I promised him that I would on no 
account, leave the house to-day. Isn't that deplorable ? 

Carrie. I should think so indeed ! I always suspected him 
of being somewhat jealous, but I never imagined he would let it 
run to such absurd lengths as this ! 

Fannie. So you see I may as well turn Nun and have doue 
with it for all the intercourse I am to have with my fellow creat- 
ures ! I expect he'll end by compelling me to forbid all my visi- 
tors the house ! 

Carrie. He certainly will, unless some means are devised to 
cure him ! Men are just such foolish, unreasonable creatures ! — 
although I must say that Tom has proved himself a very creditable 
exception. But I think I can hit upon a plan for the edification 
of this husband of yours, and which will make him so heartily 
ashamed of himself, that it may work an immediate cure ! 

Fannie. Oh, you darling? I was just going to write to you, for 
I felt sure that you could advise and help me ! Let me hear your 
plan, {they whisper apart) Splendid ! splendid ! the very 
thing ! only — poor fellow '.—well, it's no more than he deserves 
for being so ridiculous. It will be a rather severe lesson, though. 

Carrie. Severe cases require like remedies ! I'm glad now 
that I was prevented from being at your wedding ! If I don't 
badger him until he doesn't know which end he stands on, never 
trust me again, that's all ! And now, come, let us look up Tom. 
Tou'll see what a sensible, obedient fellow he is ! 

Fannie. Oh, I can't help feeling sorry for poor George, in spite 
of his conduct! I don't believe he'll ever forgive us, when he 
finds it out ! 

Carrie . I think we're the ones that ought to talk about for- 
giveness ! He'll be a sadder and wiser man, by the time I get 
through with him ! 

Fannie. Well, I must get some lunch for you, so that you 
can start early. Don't forget the route— although I tremble for 
the result ! 

Carrie. No fear. And this shall be the last day of your in- 
carceration after this tyrannical fashion, or I'm not so clever as 
I give myself credit for being ! [Exeunt. 



166 me. hunter's mistake. 

SCENE II.— ^4 Street. Enter Mr. Hunter. 

Mr. Hunter. Oh ! the agonies that I have endured this day ! 
I can hardly drag one foot after the other under the -weight of 
suspense and anxiety that oppresses rne 1 Has Fannie been true 
to her word— her promise tome this morning? She spoke so 
readily when she saw how distressed I was, — was it merely to 
allay my fears, or because she really acquiesed in my desires ? 
Shall I find her waiting for me on my return, with her smile and 
affection unaltered, or will the brief period of our separation from 
each other have been sufficient to alienate her heart from me, 
and some other already have gained a hold on her love ! Oh, 
Fannie ! Fannie ! if anything transpires to wean your affections 
from me, I shall he the most miserable of men ! (Mr. and Mrs. 
"Wheeler emerge from a side street, and walk on ahead of him. 
As they pass him, Carrie turns her head 'partly around) 

Carrie. And so you see, Tom— 

Mr. Hunter {starting). Heavens ! that voice— 

Carrie. I couldn't resist the temptation to — 

Mr. Hunter. It is ! it is ! oh ! my frenzied heart ! {springs 
forward and clutches Carrie by the arm) Fannie ! Fannie ! can 
I helieve my eyes ! How dare you deceive me so ! how dare 
you disobey my most imperative injunctions ! 

Carrie {coolly). Keally, sir, this is a very singular way for 
you to accost a lady! What do you mean by such presumption ? 

Mr. Hunter. Presumption ! Oh, Fannie, that you could be 
such a hypocrite ! How dare you leave the house after my ex- 
plicit directions to you this morning? 

Carrie. Really, sir, your words are quite incomprehensible. I 
have never received any directions from you with regard to my 
actions, and should have been quite indifTereut to them if I had ! 
I am my own mistress, sir, as every respectable person should be, 
— and at liberty to go where I please ; and I will trouble you to 
release me at once ! Moreover, my name is not 'Fannie' ; that is 
another mistake of yours ! 

Mr. Hunter. My words incomprehensible! — never have 
spoken to her about not going out !— her name not Fannie ! Am 
I awake or dreaming ? is this reality or only a dreadful night- 
mare ! Not Fannie ! heavens ! 

Mr. Wheeler. Tou will oblige us by not obstructing our way 
any longer, sir, otherwise T shall be under the unpleasant neces- 
sity of summoning the police and having you conveyed to the 
station house ! 

Carrie. The Lunatic Asylum would be a more fitting place for 
one as evidently bereft of his senses as this person appears to be ! 

Mr. Hunter (furiously). Madame, do you dare assert and 
maintain that your name is not Fannie ? that you are not my own 
lawful wife ? 



me. hunter's mistake. 157 

Carrie. Most assuredly I do ! I am not your wife, never was, 
aud wouldn't be, for a kingdom, if this is the way you treat her ! 
And now that I have answered your question, do tell me if it is 
possible that you are so ridiculously unreasonable, as not to allow 
your wife to leave the house without your permission ? 

Mr. Hunter. You know very well the reason why, Fannie! 
and I am astonished to find that you have no more regard for me 
than thus to violate your promise ! 

Carrie. Regard indeed ! do you suppose such tyrannical con- 
duct on your part is likely to inspire any regard in your wife ! I 
suppose she has got a pretty face, and for that reason she must af- 
ford no one but your lordship the benefit of looking upon what is 
attractive ! Fie upon such selfishness ! you're a regular miser ! 

Mr. Hunter. Why, Fannie, I never" heard such words from 
you in my life ! you are well aware — 

Carrie {interrupting). I am well aware that a woman's love is 
not to be obtained or kept by any such conduct on the part of her 
husband. And another thing— that by your actions you are taking 
the surest means to bring about what you imagine you are avoid- 
ing ! Make your wife's home a prison and it will soon be the 
most odious place in the world to her ! treat her with such un- 
manly and ungenerous suspicion as to sever her from ordinary 
social intercourse with her fellow beings, and soon the face and 
form which will be the most distasteful to her will be yours ! 
You must have a high opinion of your wife I think, and be well 
worthy of her regard and esteem to behave in this "Grand Turk" 
fashion ! 

Mr. Hunter. Fannie, the street is no place for a discussion 
like this ! Come home with me immediately, and I will so far 
have confidence in you as to forgive you this time. 

Carrie. I don't see why you persist in calling me Fannie ! I 
think you are crazy ! And if I were your wife I think I should 
revohfat once ; as it is, I prefer to enjoy this lovely evening a 
while longer, especially as I have such excellent company ! 

Mr. Hunter. Excellent company ! Allow me to ask who 
that gentleman is who has the unparalleled audacity to walk out 
with you, Fannie ? 

Carrie {laughing). Since you will persist in calling me Fannie, 
I suppose I shall have to let you have your own way ! But this 
gentleman is Mr. Wheeler, an old, intimate friend of mine, and 
far more sensible than you, sir, or I should have discarded him 
long ago ! 

Mr. Wheeler. Yes. indeed, my friend ! if we want to gain the 
love and respect of our wives and acquaintances, we must treat 
them as sensible, discreet individuals ; not think every time they 
look sideways that they are falling in love with somebody else! 
I'm sure your wife has just as good reason to lock you up and 
prevent your going to your business, lest you fall in love with 
some pretty woman on the way ! 



158 mr. hunter's mistake. 

Mr. Hunter (aside). I declare, I never thought of that before ! 
— (aloud). An iutimate friend ! for how long has he been such, 
madam \ 

Carrie (carelessly). Oh, for quite a while ! I don't remember 
the date exactly ! 

Mr. Hunter (groaning). Oh, I've lost her! I've lost her! 
after all my care and anxiety ! I may as well end my miserable 
life at once!" 

Carrie. I understand the root of your trouble, my friend, you're 
a victim of jealousy, and it is making you act— if you will allow 
mo to speak plainly— ridiculously ! Do you think it's fair to take 
advantage of your wife's docility, and " coop her up " at home all 
day, except when your lordship pleases to allow her liberty ! 

Mr. Hunter. Why, Fannie, you didn't object when I asked 
you this morning ! 

Carrie. I am not Fannie, in the first place, and should most 
decidedly have objected, if I had been, in the second ! 

Mr. Hunter. Fannie, your hardihood in denying your 
name right in the face of the convincing proof of my own eyes, — 
is dreadful ! But since you persist in this unwarrantable rebel- 
lion. I shall be obliged to assert my authority, so bid your "friend" 
a final farewell, and come home with me immediately. 

Carrie. But I don't intend to do anything of the kind, my good 
sir ! and I would thank you to cease this annoying conversation ! 

Mr. Hunter (groaning). Fauuie ! Fannie ! dont you love me ? 
Are you determined to break my heart ? 

Carrie. Love you ? I have't the slightest spark of affection for 
you— and never had, that I am aware of ! 

Mr. Hunter (in despair). Farewell then ! I renounce you for- 
ever ! You can call at the house and collect your personal pro- 
perty, madam, and from henceforth, I cast you entirely from my 
affections ! [Rushes out. 

Carrie (laughing). Didn't I work him up into a fine state of 
frenzy ? lets follow quickly, so as to be in time for the deuoue- 
ment ! [Exeunt. 



SCENE III.— Same as first. Fannie discovered reading. Mr. 
Hunter rushes in. 

Fannie (rising). Well, my dear ! — 

Me. Hunter (furiously). Don't "dear' me! So you've got 
home ahead of me after all, have you ! Perhaps your company 
didn't prove as agreeable as you represented ! 

Fannie (in surprise). My company? I don't understand you, 
my dear ! 

Mr. Hunter. Don't tell me that ! Where is your "dear and 
intimate friend?" 



me. hunter's mistake. 159 

Fannie {smiling). He stands just where you do, my dear! I 
have no other? 

Mr. Hunter. Don't trifle with me, madam ! Do yon pretend 
to tell me that I did not meet you out in the street in company 
with a Mr. Wheeler, fifteen minutes ago ? 

Fannie. Meet me in the street ? of course you did not ! how 
could I have reached home before you, if such had been the case ! 

Mr. Hunter. You can't deceive me a second time, Fannie ! 
you utterly repudiated me, and asserted your intention to be your 
own mistress, and pursue your own course. I gave you a chance to 
come back and you refused it— and it's too late to play the return- 
ing prodigal now ! Get your things ready, and leave the house ! 

Fannie. Why, George !— 

Enter Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler. Mr. Hunter stares at the 
ladies alternately. 

Mr. Hunter. How — which — what — is it? Which of these 
ladies is my wife ? — or have I married them both ? 

Carrie (laughing). Oh no ! {putting her arm around Fannie) 
Now sir, here we stand ! We are both equally fascinating ! so 
take your choice ! 

Mr. Hunter {pointing to Fannie). It was you I met in the 
street ! 

Faithie (merrily). Tou are wrong there, my good sir ! 

Mr. Hunter (indicating Carrie). Then you are Fannie ! 

Carrie. No sir ! you are no nearer right this time than you 
were before ! 

Mr. Hunter. Well then I can't tell which is which, and which 
isn't ! Oh ladies ! take pity on me and help me out of this tangle, 
or I shall commit suicide ! 

Carrie. On one condition only, sir! that you take back all 
your unjust accusations against your wife, and that you have in 
future sufficient confidence to allow her untrammelled liberty. 
Do you consent? 

Mr. Hunter. Yes ! a thousand times yes ! Anything to get 
my dear Fannie back again ! 

Mr. Wheeler. Yery well ; stand off here and shut your eyes 
and your wife will come and embrace you ! 
Mr. Hunter does as requested. Fannie rushes into his arms. 

Fannie. Now open them ! 

Mr. Hunter. Yes ! you're my darling Fannie, and no mistake ; 
and now explain this mystery, my- dear, and tell me who that 
lady is ? 

Fannie (gayly). Certainly, George! that is my twin sister, 
Carrie, whom you have never yet seen, and who came down to- 
day with her husband to pay us a visit ! 

Mr. Hunter. A — h ! but I don't exactly understand yet, my 
dear ! 



160 A FRIEND AT COURT. 

Fannie. Well, after dinner they went for a walk ; they urged 
me to go with them, hut remembering your wishes I refused, 
and — and — you mistook her forme, I suppose! 

Mr. Hunter (aside). Aud made a preeious fool of myself 
about it too ; by Jove ! 

Carrie. Aud now, sir, aren't you ashamed of yourself, for being 
so jealous of your wife who never had a thought apart from you, 
and gave up a delightful promenade with her own relations, just 
to please you. I think you ought to be, and you ought to treat 
her with more consideration in the future. 

Mr. Hunter. And I will ! I'm assured of her affection, and 
I'll not ran the risk by my tyranny, of experiencing the dreadful 
reality that I thought I had, to-night. 

Fannie. Well, my dear, shall I go pack up ? I don't wonder 
at your mistake, for people used to say they never could tell 
Carrie aud me apart (aside) and it wouldnover do to tell him that 
it was a regularly laid plan of my mischievous sister's ! 

Mr. Hunter, I rather think we'll postpone it indefinitely, my 
dear ! 

Mr. "Wheeler. And so again, woman's tact has triumphed, and 
a jealous husband cured of his disease, all through the well-con- 
trived agency of "Mr. Hunter's Mistake." 

CURTAIN. 



A FRIEND AT COURT. 



CHAR A C TEES. 



Mr. De Forest. 
Lilla De Forest. 
Mr. Gregg. 



Anna Merrill. 
Arthur Gardiner. 
Sally. 



SCENE I.— A parlor. Enter Lilla in walking costume. 

Lilla. "Well, here I am home at last— a finished young lady * 
ahem ? No more tedious examples, and dry exercises, that were 
onlv invented, I verily believe, to prevent us poor boarding school 
victims from the remotest possibility of ever becoming saints !— 
no more of Mademoiselle Lengri screaming her shrill French 
treble in one ear, and Herr. Miller grunting his gutteral German 
base in the other! dear! dear ! all I can remember of either lan- 
guage is, m *Je vous aime ! " and, " Icli Hebe dichft " but there was 
the inspiration of a handsome face to help keep that in my mem- 



A FHIEND AT COUET. 161 

ory — the dear fellow! I've half a mind to plead ignorance, and 
beg papa for another year at school ! but I shouldn't have any 
hope of seeing him there, though, for he left for parts unknown, 
just before I "graduated with all the honors," — vide Madarne's 
eulogistic letter to papa, which he accepted with all the credu- 
lity imaginable, poor man ! —and I don't think it's at all likely 
that we shall ever meet again ; he's gone no one knows where, 
and I am back home again, an heiress, and consequently, I sup- 
pose, a belle ! Heigho ! I declare I'm tired ! — (throws herself 
upon a chair). 

Enter Anna Merrill. 

Anna. Why, how-de-do, coz ! so you're home for good, eh? 

Lilla. Oh,"l don't know ! good, bad, or indifferent, I suppose, 
which ever you choose ! 

Anna. Well, you seem to be remarkably lackadaisical about it ! 
One wouldn't suppose that home was the pleasantest place in the 
world to you ! 

Lilla. Oh yes, it is pleasant ; but then I'm tired, and just the 
least little bit in the world out of sorts ! I expect I shall miss the 
fun and excitement with the girls, dreadfully, for awhile. "We 
did use to have such glorious times at school, Anna ! 

Anna. I dare say! judging from your letters, I should think 
there was one line of study that you cultivated most assidu- 
ously— 

Lilla. And that was — recreation, amusement, and carrying 
on generally ! you had better believe we understood that, thor- 
oughly, from beginning to end, with all its rules and exceptions ! 

Anna. And I suppose the exceptions only lent added spici- 
ness to the rules ! how many times did summary justice overtake 
you and bring you to grief, —on an average ? 

Lilla. Oh, not often ! we managed to glide around the ' 'excep- 
tions," and come up on the other side, with faces of such severe 
propriety, that even Madame herself couldu't ferret out the mys- 
tery, or lay her finger on the offender. Oh ! it was perfectly 
elegant ! I believe Madame would have been a firm believer in 
supernatural agencies if our term had extended much longer! 

Anna. I haven't a doubt of it ! and you I suppose were~one of 
the leading spirits. 

Lilla. Of course ! I went to Madame Arnold's to have a gay 
time, and not to badger my poor brains with a lot of musty, fusty 
"ologies" and "osophies," you may be sure ! Dear me '. when a 
girl has to learn two or three different styles of wearing her hair, 
every month, and keep the run of all the different quirks and 
changes of that tyrannical de?pot. Fashion, where's the room in 
one poor head for anything more, I should like to know ? 

Anna {laughing).* Poor child ! yours is a most pathetic case, 
I must confess ! but I suppose you have succeeded in mastering 



162 A FRIEND AT C0UET. 

the spelling book, and multiplication table, and like humble 
primitive sciences, during your scholastic sojourn ? 

Lilla. Yes, thank goodness, I managed to got along with, 
them, and pass a very commendable examination, and now — 

Anna. And now you are homo again, rich, accomplished, 
pretty, and soon to enjoy the added eclat of '-coming out" in so- 
ciety, where you may expect a long and brilliant reign as a 
courted and flattered belle ! You are a fortunate girl, Lilla De 
Forest ! 

Lilla (languidly). Am I ! I expect I shall be desperately sick 
of it in six months' time, aud wish myself back again in my little 
1 'seven by nine" back room at Madame Arnold's , with all my 
heart ! 

Anna. Fiddlesticks ! no danger of your being tired of society 
life ! you're a born coquette, Lilla, and they are the most indefat- 
igable devotees at the shrine of fashionable dissipation! And you 
can have your full swing, too, for your prospects and future are 
all laid out for you already ! 

Lilla. "What do you mean? 

Anna (laughing). What pretty innocence ! hasn't "papa" in- 
formed you of your settled destiny as the future Mrs. Gregg? 

Lilla. Don't mention it, Anna, I beg ! I think papa ought to 
be ashamed of himself ! 

Anna. "What? for securing to you a rich husband, and an ele- 
gant, aristocratic home, at the end of a brilliant career in soci- 
ety ! I wish I were in your place, Lilla. 

Lilla. I wish you were, Anna, with all my heart ! I'd change 
my circumstances for yours, with the greatest of pleasure ! 

Anna. Lilla de Forest ! are you in your senses ? You, 
a girl surrounded by everything to make life most enviable, 
change places with me, a poor, insignificant girl, dependent for 
my support upon my uncle's liberality ! 

Lilla. Nonsense, Anna ! You know very well that father 
looks upon you as another daughter, as far as that goes; and if 
you are not blessed with worldly possessions, you are at least free 
to make your own selection in iife, instead of being compelled 
to have your affections bargained off by another party, as so 
much merchandise, to the highest bidder! 

Anna. You are quite eloquent, Lilla ! but as to my freedom in 
matrimonial affairs, it is a kind of Hobson's choice with me. as 
it is extremely unlikely that a humble, portionless individual like 
myself, would be apt to attract the notice, much less the prefer- 
ence, of any of the stern sex. 

Lilla. That may be ; but I prefer to exercise a little whole- 
some independence in such matters. The idea of being tied for 
life to a man nearly as old as my own father, who doesn't even in- 
tend to take the trouble to come here and make love to me, but 
applies to father by letter, for my hand, with as much noncha- 



A FRIEND AT COURT. 163 

lance, and as little sentiment, as one might be supposed to expe- 
rience in buying a kitchen stove ! That's a charming prospect 
for a girl to look forward to, isn't it? No, indeed, Anna Merrill ; 
mine is far from being an enviable position ! I am sorry I was 
obliged to leave school at all ; and sooner than submit to such 
a fate, I've a great mind to turn nun, and have done with it. 

Anna. "Well, it seems always to be the case that the most 
favored circumstances and the least appreciation of them seem 
to be combined. Your father says he is a very pleasant and 
handsome gentleman, his residence a miniature Paradise, and his 
coffers inexhaustible. I should be delighted at such a substan- 
tial realization of Aladdin's palace. Better be an old man's 
darling, you know, than a young man's slave. 

Lilla. Oh, to Guinea with your tiresome quotations-, cousin 
Anna! You wouldn't catch we being the slave of any man, 
young or old ; but I want to feel as if the man I marry is my 
husband, and not my grandfather ! 

Anna. "Well, a willful lass will have her way, I suppose. Only 
if you can't make up your mind to harmonize with your suitor, I 
wish you would just speak a good word in my behalf to him. 

Lilla. Rest assured, 1 shall, if I ever get a chance to speak 
to him ; but I hardly think that the gentleman contemplates hon- 
oring me with a visit, until he comes prepared to make me Mrs. 
— what an abominable old name it is, to be sure ! Don't talk to 
me any more about him, cousin, I beg, or I shall get hopelessly 
disgusted, and seek to evade my fate by precipitate flight, or 
some other equally desperate step. 

Annie. Why, I sure I don't think that "Gregg" is an abomin- 
able name in the least ! it sounds quite harmonious to me. But 
I musn't waste my time in idle chat ; I have some letters to 
copy for uncle, so I must bid you au revoir. [Exit. 

Lilla. Ah ! Anna little knows what it is that makes the idea 
of marrying any — but one, — so distasteful to me ! Dear fellow ! 
this is all I have as a reminder of him ! (draws picture from 
her pocket) This indifferent sketch drawn by my own hand, 
when I last saw him, at the picnic we had in those delightful 
woods ! But he disappeared as suddenly as if the earth had 
opened and swallowed him up, leaving no trace behind— not even 
one little crumb of hope as an earnest of his return to me ! I 
suppose some evil genius has imparted to him the knowledge 
of my wealth, and that is destined to prove an insuperable bar- 
rier between us ! Oh, dear, why can't the course of true love 
run a little smoother, I wonder ! As for that old money-bags that 
wants me for a wife, if he expects ever to win my consent to such 
a thing, he'll have to work precious hard for it. But I must go 
and put away my wraps. It is nic« being home, after all — I can 
enjoy my "forty winks" to-morrow morning, without the dread 
of any old cat of a preceptress at my door. My own mistress ! 



164 A FRIEND AT COUBT. 

Only to think of it ! — won't I make good use of my freedom, 
though ! [dcmces out of the room. 



SCENE II.— Library. Enter Mr. De Forest and Arthur 
Gardiner. 

Mr. De Forest. Sit down, sir, sit down, while I read this 
letter (Arthur takes a seat) let me see {opens letter, reads) 
"Dear De Forest. — As I am too much immersed in my business 
and the care of my estate to leave it at present, I have" taken the 
liberty of sending the bearer, Arthur Gardiner, as a representa- 
tive of my interests. He has studied music as a profession, and 
he could give your daughter lessons in that branch, and at the 
same time act in the capacity of a "friend at court," and advance 
my interests with the girl, until such time as I can tind leisure 
to visit you, and institute a formal betrothal with her. The 
youug man has my unqualified sauctiou and recommendation as 
an excellent person for the position.— Tours in haste, James 
Gregg." Yes, yes— a very good idea ! {aloud) You are the person 
mentioned in this letter, of course ? 

Arthur {rising and bowing). At your service, sir. 

Mr. De Forest. And you come in the capacity of a music- 
teacher for my daughter ? 

Arthur. I" shall be very happy to serve you in that position, 
sir, if my references prove satisfactory. 

Mr. De Forest. They are entirely satisfactory, Mr. Gardiner ; 
be seated again, if you please, and I will bring my daughter in 
and present her to you. — You understand, I presume, the char- 
acter of your mission here ? 

Arthur. Perfectly, sir ; and I shall endeavor to prove myself 
worthy of the trust reposed in me. 

Mr. De Forest. That sounds promising ! "Well, amuse your- 
self for a few moments, until I return with my daughter. 

[Exit Mr. De Forest. 

Arthur. Amuse myself! alas! all that is attractive and 
beautiful in life has died out of it for me. Since the day when 
the intelligence came to me that the young girl, whom, - although 
I had seen her bnt three times, and knew but her first sweet name, 
Lilla — I had learned to love so devotedly, was by virtue of her 
wealth and high social position, hopelessly separated from me, 
and unable to endure the pain of gazing upon that which I could 
never possess, tore myself away from the place which her pres- 
ence had made such a Paradise, and strove in vain to forget her, 
the world has been a cheerless, dreary blank. If I could only 
know that she has thought upon me, even kindly, it would take 
off the sharp, bitter sting of my disappointment, — but no! she 
would doubtless turn from me in haughty scorn, could she know 



A FRIEND AT COURT. 165 

that I had presumed to enshrine her in my heart. And now, 
with all hope forever gone of winning for myself that love which 
my heart hungers for, I am commissioned to win a stranger's 
heart, in behalf of my friend ; who, like Miles Standish, has too 
much worldly care on his mind, to admit of love, and must needs 
do his courting by proxy. Well, I will do my best for him, with- 
out any fear of becoming his rival. I hear footsteps ; she is 
coming. Gregg tells me she is marvellously beautiful— but can 
any face look attractive, beside the one enshrined in my heart's 
fondest, saddest recollections ? 

Enter De Forest and Lilla. 

De Forest. My daughter, let me present to you, Mr. Gard- 
iner, under whose tuition you will carry on your musical studies 
for a few months longer. 

Lilla (looking up). I am happy — (aside) Oh ! Merciful 
heavens ! (turns away her head). 

De Forest. What is the matter, Lilla ? 

Lilla. Only a sudden faintness, father ! I shall be better 
presently (sinks upon a chair). 

Gardiner (aside). Can I believe my eyes ? What kind or 
unkind fate has brought me thus unexpectedly into the presence 
of her whom I love better than all the world, and yet from whom 
I am separated more distantly and hopelessly than from my bit- 
terest enemy ! And she is so affected, too ! Can it be possible 
that — hut no ! I dare not indulge such a presumptious hope ! 

Lilla (raising her head). There, I am better now. It gives 
me much pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr.—; what did 
you say his name was, father ! 

De Forest. Gardiner, my dear, Arthur Gardiner. But are you 
sure you feel quite recovered ? You were never subject to such 
attacks that I was aware of. 

liiLL a (aside). Arthur! I dare not speak that word aloud, 
lest my heart betray me ! (aloud) I have been studying quite 
hard during the last few months at school, father ; and I have 
not yet entirely recovered from the fatiguing journey home. 

De Forrest. You must give yourself a holiday for a week or 
so, to get thoroughly rested in, Lilla. I will depute you to show 
Mr. Gardiner all the desirable sights in the neighborhood. A ride 
every day will be the best tonic you can have, and I wish you 
to be'fresh and blooming, and look your best, when your prospective 
husband — 

Lilla (faintly). Mr. Gardiner, will you hand me a glass of 
water from that stand ? I feel the giddiness returning again. 

Arthur. With pleasure ! (steps to table, aside) Ah ! my 
darling ! Had I the privilege of holding you in my arms but for 
one moment, I would count the rest of my task an easy and blessed 
one ! (hands her the glass). 



166 A FRIEND AT COURT. 

Lilla. Thank you, Mr. Gardiner! (aside''— Oh. ! how that mo- 
mentary touch of his dear hand sent a thrill to my heart ! 

De Forest. How your hand trembles, Lilla ! I really feel 
quite anxious about you. You had better go and lie down for a 
while, and I will entertain Mr. Gardiner until you return. 

LiLLa. Oh no, father ! I arn quite strong now ! {aside) — I can- 
not bear to be separatod from him for a moment ! (aloud) — this 
is my prospective music master, did you say, father ? 

De Forest. Yes ; you will pursue that study with him for a 
while longer. It is a branch I particularly wish you to be profi- 
cient in, as it is a favorite one with Mr. Gregg. So Mr. Gardiner 
may consider himself a guest here for a few days, until you feel 
strong enough, and then I would like to have you commence regu- 
larly. And now I must leave you for awhile, but I will send your 
cousin in, to assist you in entertaining Mr. Gardiner. 

[Exit Mr. De Forest. 

Lilla (aside). I must make some commonplace remarks to 
bim, until Anna comes in, to relieve me from this embarrass- 
ment, (aloud) — What do you think of our residence, Mr. Gar- 
diner? Papa is quite egotistical about it ; he considers it the 
pride of the whole neighborhood ! How does it impress you ? 

Arthur. And well he may be proud of it, Miss De Forest ! I 
rode somewhat leisurely through the town, and I could not dis- 
cover an estate that rivalled its attractions. 

Lilla (laughing). Thank you! you had reference, of course, 
simply to it's outside attractions ! (aside)— How calm and self 
possessed he is ! would he look at me with cool surprise, I wonder, 
n I should throw pride and conventionality to the winds, and tell 
him that I love him ! 

Arthur (aside). That light, joyous laugh is as the death 
knell to any hope that might still linger in my heart. I must 
address myself to my task, forgetting that she is aught but the 
prospective and haughty bride of a man, who in point of wealth, 
at least, is her equal I— (aloud) — You wrong me, Miss De Forest ! 
if I failed to comment upon its inner attractions, it was because 
I felt my feeble tongue unequal to do the case sufficient justice. 
But there is one residence that may compete with it, especially 
when the living and beautifying spirit of this, shall take up its 
dwelling there— and that is the estate of my friend, Mr. Gregg! 

Lilla (aside). Such a theme in eulogistic words from his lips, 
will drive me wild !— (aloud, impatiently)— Excuse me for inter- 
rupting you, Mr. Gardiner ; but I don't believe my cousin is ever 
coming in ! There ! I see her on the lawn ; suppose we join her 
— it is perfectly insufferable within doors ! 

Arthur. I am entirely at your service, Miss De Forest. 

Lilla (aside). Alas ! alas ! that I should have him by my side, 
day after day, and yet with this hateful barrier between us ! — 
(aloud) — This way then, Mr. Gardiner, if you please. [Exeunt. 



A FRIEND AT COURT. 167 

SCENE III.— Library. Enter Lilla ana ner father. 

De Forest. "Well, my daughter, you have had a whole week 
of recreation, and you seem to have entirely regained your 
wonted health and vigor ; so I should like to have you resume 
your lessons without further delay ; and I hope you will make 
good use of the excellent instruction which I feel sure Mr. Gar- 
diner is qualified to give you. 

Lilla (aside). If he were only deputed to teach me Love's 
sweet lesson, on his own behalf, I would be an apt pupil 1 — 
(aloud) — Dear me, papa ! I thought I was emancipated from the 
drudgery of trills and octaves, when I took my last look at the 
Seminary. Am't I to have any relaxation ? 

De Forest. You need devote only a small portion of every 
day to study, Lilla ; and as an incentive to your efforts, just bear 
in mind that you are fitting yourself to be a brilliant match for 
your wealthy and distinguished suitor. 

Lilla. Oh, mercy, papa! that is the very last thought that it 
gives me any satisfaction to contemplate ! I don't want to think 
of wealthy, or any other kind of suitors, for five years, yet ! I'm 
bound to have some fun, before I settle down as the wife of a 
jealous old man, whe will be ready to take my head off if I look 
sideways at anybody else ! 

De Forest. WTiy, Lilla, I'm astonished to hear you express 
yourself in such terms of your prospective husband ! He is some- 
what advanced in years, it is true, but that is all the more in his 
favor— these boy and girl marriages are"simply ridiculous. And 
if by ""fun," you mean fashionable amusements, you can have 
your full quota of that, as the mistress of his elegant mansion. 

Lilla. Well now, papa, I think it isjtoo bad to be bartered off 
in this way, like a piece of calico, or any other merchandise, with- 
out even being allowed a voice in the matter. I think I might at 
least have been accorded the privilege of seeing my prospective 
husband, before matters were settled in this preremptory style. 
Suppose I don't like him ? 

De Forest. [I give you credit for more taste and discrimina- 
tion, Lilla, than to raise the slightest objection to a match so em- 
inently enviable and desirable in every respect. Mr. Gregg is 
too much occupied at present with the care and supervision of 
his extensive estate, to pay us even a brief visit — and it would be 
neither necessary, nor according to the rules of etiquette for you 
to visit Mm, at present. 

Lilla. And so my august lord and master remits me an order 
to lock up my heart against all intrusion from other sources, send 
bim the key by mail, and then await his gracious pleasure to 
come and unlock it, and take possession ! If that isn't the cool- 
est way of making love that I ever heard of. 

De Forest. Come, come, Lilla, vou have got a willful fit on 



1(j3 a friend at court. 

this morning,— that is all ; and yon have become tinctured with 
some boarding school nonsense and romance, that will soon 
wear oil'. Von ace a fortunate girl to- have your fortune secured 
so early ; and your pretended depreeation is only coquettishness. 
So just apply yourself to your lessons for a few months longer, 
like a good girl, and at the end of that time we'll have a wedding, 
that will make the town ring; and you can take your place at 
the head of an elegant and luxurious mansion, and just give 
yourself up to the delights of a brilliant career. There, Lilla, such 
a prospect as that, is enough to turn the head of any young girl. 

Lilla (huujhing). It don't disturb the equilibrium of mine, a 
particle, father ! but I will go on with my music, and avail my- 
self of Mr. Gardiner's proficiency in that line, if only to please you ! 
So don't give yourself any anxiety about me, for I shall come out 
all right in the eud, I dare say. 

De Forest. I am sure of that, Lilla ! I always knew you were 
a good, sensible girl : and my friend Gregg will obtain a treasure 
in you ! And now I'll send Gardiner to you, and leave you to 
pursue your studies with him, unmolested, and the afternoon 
you shall have at your own disposal. So au revoir, love ! 

Lilla. Au revoir, papa. [Exit De Forest. 

Lilla. So this is one of the blessings of being rich ! My free- 
dom, that I anticipated with so much delight a few days ago, 
seems destined to be of short duration, for by the way papa talks,it 
is evident that he contemplates a speedy marriage. Dear ! dear ! 
if I were only of age, I'd be tempted to donate all my share of 
papa's money to some charitable institution to-morrow, and then 
we would see if my distinguished suitor would consider me so de- 
sirable. If the date of my wedding is made contingent upon my 
proficiency in music, I will try Penelope's stratagem, and extend 
my tapestry to an indefinite extent ! But there he comes now, 
the dear fellow ! 

Enter Arthur Gardiner. 

Good morning, Mr. Gardiner ! this morning inaugurates your 
transformation from the suave and geuial guest to the stem and 
unrelenting preceptor ! I tremble with apprehension at the 
prospect before me ! 

Arthur (aside). How lovely she looks this morning ! How 
eloquently my tongue could plead a cause dear to my heart! 
but, no! its powers are devoted to another's service! (aloud) 
I trust a test of my preceptive abilities will dispel your appre- 
hensions, Miss De Forest. 

Lilla. I give you warning beforehand, Mr. Gardiner, that I 
am likely to prove a very refractory pupil, and as you will doubt- 
less have occasion for very frequent reprimands, ' 'Miss De Forest'' 
will be altogether too long for so much repetition — so I recom- 
mend that you change it for "Miss Lilla." 



A FRIEND AT COURT. 169 

Arthur (aside). The change that my heart clamors for, 
would extend further than that, my darling ! {aloud) I will 
make the substitution with much pleasure, and many thanks, 
Miss Lilla, if you will not consider it a liberty. Lilla is a favorite 
name of— of my friend, Mr. Gregg. 

Lilla (aside). I'll apply to the church authorities to have it 
changed to something else, then ! (aloud) That is fortunate, 
certainly, for I have carried it tor so many years, that I should 
not be disposed to alter it, now, were it ever so detestable to him. 

Arthur. Mr. Gregg is a gentleman of too fine taste to find 
aught in you that would excite other feelings than those of most 
profound devotion and admiration, Miss Lilla, and as one who 
has known him for some time, I can say that he will make a 
most excellent husband. 

Lilla (aside). And thou, too, Brutus, (aloud) I don't dis- 
parage his qualifications for a good husband — but I don't feel so 
well assured of my ability to make him as excellent a wife. 

Arthur. I cannot but believe, Miss Lilla, that the man on 
whom your affections were bestowed, would find in you a per- 
petual joy — a perpetual blessing ! 

Lilla (aside). With what fervor he uttered those words ! 
Can it be possible that he cares for me ? But no ! the look is 
gone ! it was only a momentary enthusiasm or gallantry ! 
(aloud) Tou flatter me, Mr. Gardiner ;— and at the same time 
your speech betrays an ignorance of the ways of world ; in this 
particular, at least. 

Arthur (aside). My treacherous tongue had well nigh 
betrayed me, then ! I must guard it more carefully in future. 
(aloud) That gives me an opportunity to occupy the position of 
a scholar, for a brief while, Miss Lilla ! Pray explain that last 
remark of yours. 

Lilla. Do you entertain the fond supposition, that the 
bestowal of one's affections is always a preliminary step to mar- 
riage with any person, Mr. Gardiner ? 

Arthur. I should suppose so, indeed, Miss Lilla ; it seems to 
me impossible for it to be otherwise. 

Lilla. It remain?! for me to enlighten you, then ; so please to 
understand, that in fashionable circles, "falling in love" long ago 
fell into disuse, and has become in fact a mere myth. All that 
a young lady looks forward to "falling into,'' now-a-days, is a 
brown stone front, an unlimited amount of credit at the banker's, 
and a constant round of parties, drives, operas, and the like ! 

Arthur (smiling). Your description is certainly a graphic 
one, Miss Lilla ; but you do not intend that your criticism should 
include all of your sex, I hope. 

Lilla. With a very few exceptions, — yes; — and they are so 
insignificant that they don't count. Love marriages are well 
nigh obsolete,— more's the pity I 



170 A FRIEND AT COURT. 

Arthur. I echo that sentiment with all my heart. But is 
wealth an effectual barrier to love ? May not Cupid ply his merry 
traffio in such cases as well as among the humbler walks of 
life? 

Lilla. Oh, yes, sometimes. Money is a very indispensable 
artiele, and it need not stand in the way cf true love. A man 
whose love is worth obtaining, need be none the less desirable 
because he is the owner of broad lands and well-tilled coffers. 

Arthur (aside). Those words make my case forever hopeless ! 
and yet what more had I a right to expect ? (aloud) Suppose 
we adjourn to our music-lesson, Miss Lilla ; and let me say in 
conclusion to your words that Mr. Gregg possesses all the 
requisites to make you happy, that he loves you devotedly, and that 
as you have justly remarked, his wealth and yours need only 
serve to make your union more perfect, more favored. 

Lilla (aside). Had Mr. Gregg one-half his eloquence, and 
but a tithe of these grand estates, my heart would have sur- 
rendered without a murmur ! (aloud) I'm sure I'm much obliged 
to Mr. Gregg for passing his approval upon one, on such a 
a meagre knowledge of my character ; as for myself, since get- 
ting a husband only seems like a species of shopping, I should 
prefer to have the same privilege that I exercise there— that of 
examining my goods before they are sent home. 

Arthur. Well, when the article is of such a nature that it 
cannot fail to suit, Miss Lilla, such a provision may be deemed 
unnecessary. 

Lilla (impatiently). I think it's about time to commence our 
lessou. Mr. G-ardiner ; and I would suggest that we drop this 
present subject for an indefinite length of time, and adopt some 
other for discussion, instead ; it is getting absolutely tiresome. 

Arthur (aside). Can it be that she means those words, or do 
they merely betoken a natural reserve ? — (aloud)— Pardon me if 
I have unintentionally annoyed you, but I suppose that your 
future brilliant prospects would always find favor with you, and 
both your father and Mr. Gregg directed me— 

Lilla. (interrupting). Yes, I know ! they directed you to re- 
gale my ears with the supposed dulcet strains of my approaching 
prospects, and to sound the praises of my selected husband. 
You have performed your duties with commendable fidelity for 
the last week, and now I request that you dismiss it; as it is one 
utterly devoid of any interest- and in fact, positively distasteful 
to me. 

Arthur. Your tone causes me to fear that I have unwittingly 
exceeded my privileges as a guest, and been too importunate in 
my efforts to serve you and others, Miss Lilla. Permit me to 
apologise for my error, and assert my willingness to discourse 
upon any topic that you may suggest. "Which one can I select 
that will afford you the most pleasure ? 



A FRIEND AT COURT. 171 

Lilla (aside). Not a word has he uttered, during all this 
week, in allusion to those few happy days we spent in each 
other's company. Is it on his account or mine, that he so studi- 
ously avoids it, I wonder ? I'll compel him to speak of it, any- 
how!— (a loud)— If you wish to converse upon a topic that will 
interest me, Mr. Gardiner, let it be my school days— you know 
something of the last of them, at any rate, for you were in 
that vicinity just before my final examination. They were the 
brighest days of my life — I never expect to be so happy again ! 
and I know very well that your memory is as good as mine, al- 
though you have so persistently ignored all mention of them 
since yon have been here. I am not willing to entertain the un- 
complimentary conclusion, that our acquaintance, slight as it 
Was, had been completely obliterated from your recollection. 

Arthur (aside). And she remembers it ; bless her ! yet she is 
leading me upon dangerous ground ! — (aloud) — Do not do me the 
injustice, Miss Lilla, to believe that my memory has for a mo- 
ment ceased to treasure the recollection of one of the happiest 
periods of my life. If I have refrained from mentioning it, it 
is because I find in your present position — 

Lilla. Mr. Gardiner, my present position is not one whit al- 
tered from what it was then. I have just the same worldly posi- 
tion, and the same personelte, —unless it may be that I am less 
pleasing — 

Arthur (aside). Her captivating manner well nigh unmans 
me ! yet I must restrain my feelings. — (aloud)— Miss Lilla, I 
should feel most favored in adding in any way to your comfort or 
pleasure ; and— 

Lilla. Talk to me then of those happy, happy days ; that 
their memory may nestle warm at my heart, when their lingering 
influence has fled forever! 

Arthur. Fled ! not so, Miss Lilla ! your marriage will but en- 
sure you a continuance of them ! Tou said yourself, that wealth 
is no barrier to love ; and with both at your command, how can 
you have a wish ungratified — a desire unfilled ? 

Lilla. So I did, Mr. Gardiner ; but where love is not, to hearts 
capable of such a sentiment, wealth furnishes but a poor and un- 
satisfactory substitute ! 

Arthur. And can it be that those sorrowful words are applic- 
able to you,— Miss Lilla? 

Lilla. Mr. Gardiner, it is perfectly true that I have not the 
slightest particle of affection for the man for whom I am desig- 
nated by my father, and — (aside) — I must change the topic, or 
my secret will escape me, despite all I can do — (aloud) — now tell 
me, by way of variety, what supernatural agency it was that con- 
veyed you away so suddenly from Hillside, without a word of 
farewell to your friends ? 

Arthur (aside). How can I answer her?— (aloud) — Miss 



172 A FRIEND AT COURT. 

Lilla, pardon me if I refuse to answer that question. I cannot — 

Lilla (interrupting). Mr. Gardiner, I will neither pardon you, 
nor accept yourrefusaL 1 insist upon knowing. 

Arthur. Must I speak aud incur your lasting disfavor ? 

Lilla. You must speak, Mr. Gardiner !— as to the disfavor, 
■we'll settle that matter afterward ! 

Arthur. How can I but incur your displeasure and disdain, 
Miss Lilla, when I tell you that those few blissful interviews with 
you had beeu fatal to my peace of mind — that I had presumed to 
dream of you— Oh ! happy, impossible dream!— uutil the news 
of your position and wealth, opened my eyes to my presumption, 
and wrested from me the hope, while the sting of despair rankled 
behind ! Lilla ! I have striven to keep my lips sealed in your 
presence ! but I can do so no longer ! Look upon me with 
anger, contempt, scorn, if you will ! I love you ! and though you 
are separated from me by a hopelessly impassable gulf I shall 
never cease to love you while I live ! There ! you turn from me ! 
has my presumption hopelessly offended you ? 

Lilla. Offended me ? Oh, Mr. Gardiner— Arthur ! (hides her 
face in her hands). 

Arthur (aside). Arthur! do I hear aright? — {catching her 
hands) — Lilla ! Lilla ! darling ! look up ; speak to me ! let me 
hear one word, if it be but to rebuke my presumption. 

Lilla {looking up). One word ? it shall be two or none. Dear 
Arthur! 

Arthur. Oh ! Lilla ! do not mock me ! dare I hope that my 
long and apparently hopeless affection is returned ? 

Lilla. Hopeless no longer, then, Arthur ! Tou have told 
me that you love me, I must plead guilty to a like charge 
on my own account. 

Arthur. My darling \— (embraces her)— But, Lilla, this is a 
most treacherous advantage on my part, of my friend's confi- 
dence ! My mission here was to plead for him — not myself — 
although, when I discovered who you were, the task was a con- 
stant torture ! 

Lilla. And yet one so nobly and faithfully performed, 
Arthur, that it came near driving all hope from my heart forever. 
(smiling) And if I, in imitation of Miles Standish's prospective 
bride, choose to say, "speak for yourself, John!" is it not your 
part to obey ? 

Arthur. An obedience too sweet, too tempting, to be resisted, 
darling ! And yet, what can I say to my Mend in self extenua- 
tion ; how can I tell him that the one he sent to be "a friend at 
court" has plucked the jewel for his own ? 

Lilla. /should tell him that I had a decided aversion to being 
courted by proxy ; that "a bird in the hand was worth two in 
the bush," and that I preferred the ambassador to the prince. 

Abthur. Still the same bright, sparkling fairy that so captivated 



A FRIEND AT COURT. 173 

me in those few blissful weeks ! Lilla ! how can I ask you to 
become a poor man's bride ? 

Lilla {roguishly). How? why, by such a selection of appro- 
priate words, as shall convey an impression to that effect. 

Arthur. And what will your father say '? 

Lilla. My father will not coerce me ; and I have an inde- 
pendent fortune of my own, at any rate. So, if you aren't rich, 
I am, and that's all the same, —or will be ! 

Arthur. Lilla, you are worth your weight in gold ! 

Lilla (smiling). Well, I don't know whether my possessions 
would exactly balance the number of pounds avoirdupois that I 
must acknowledge, but with my real estate and all, perhaps it 
would ! 

Arthur. You little rogue ! My words were much more com- 
prehensive than that ! But I can't help pitying my friend 
Gregg, for having lost such a treasure ! 

Lilla. He should have been a more ardent lover, then. But, 
Arthur, I have just thought of a capital idea ! My cousin Anna, 
would be only too well satisfied with so desirable a match. 
Couldn't we bring it about in her favor % Come now ! let's put 
our heads together, and see if we can't benefit her a little ! 

Arthur. Well, isn't this the best way in which to put our 
heads together ? {kisses he)-). 

Lilla. You saucy fellow ! Oh, Arthur ! I shall never for- 
give you for letting my money frighten you off ! 

Arthur. Don't say that, "my darling ! if you could know 
how I have suffered; and how hard it was for me to be with you day 
after day, and yet crush back the words of love that rose to my lips, 
and substitute for them words of eulogy in another's cause, you 
would have room for naught but pity in your heart for me ! 

Lilla. Nor have I, Arthur ! but when you write again, just 
tell Mr. Gregg that matters are all ri^ht, and then sound my 
cousin's praises to him ; and I will enlist her fancy for him on 
my part. 

Arthur. We will lay our plans to that effect, then — although 
I dare hardly believe yet, that I have been so blessed to-day. 

Lilla. You'll realize it fast enough when I begin to show you 
what a tease I am ! But come, let us go to the music-lesson 
now, or pa.pa will be after us, and there'll be the mischief to pay. 
The very thought of music-lessons disheartened me this morning, 
in view of the proposed end ; — but I feel equal to anything, now, 
for I am perfectly brimming over with happiness ! 

Arthur. That radiant face confirms your words, my darling ! 
If I may only make you half as happy as you have me, our life 
here will be a Paradise ! 

Lilla. I believe you will, Arthur ! This way, please, to the 
music-room ! [Exeunt. 



174 A FRIEND AT COURT. 

SCENE IT. —Hall. Enter Anna. 

Anna. And so to-day is to witness the advent of that long ex- 
pected suitor of Lilla's ; and she manifests just ahout as much 
enthusiasm and interest about it, as she would about eating her 
breakfast. I declare I'm astonished at her want of taste ! and a 
prospect coming to me would be enough to set mo wild with 
delight. Dear me, I wish I" could have such a chance ! audit' he 
is half as desirable as Mr. Gardiner represents him, he must be a 
perfect darling ! Ah, me ! Lilla seems perfectly indifferent to his 
praises, while it has set my poor heart beating so that 1 don't 
know what to do ! And I must meet him and entertain him, 
and hold Lilla up for his admiration, when I would give anything 
to have him myself. How crookedly everything does go on in 
this world! but I must see that Mr." Gregg's room is in proper 
order. [Exit. 

Enter Sally. 

Sally (aside). I expect we poor creatures will have to run 
our very feet off for the next two or three weeks, 
to get ready for the grand wedding —though 'pears to 
me Miss Lilla can't be over pleased with the idea, by 
the way she acts ! There's Miss Anna, now — if it was her beau 
that was coming, she couldn't be more flustered or more par- 
ticular that eveiything should be just right! Things is cur'us ; 
them that has, don't want, and them that does want, hasn't; so 
it's all mixed up ; (a knock at the door) there he is now ! I must 
let him in ! (goes to door and opens it) Oh ! come in, sir 

Enter Mr. Gregg. 

Mr. Gregg. This is Mr. De Forest's residence, I presume ? 

Sally (courtesying). Yes, sir. Master was obliged to go away 
this morning, on business, but he expects to be back soon. 

Gregg. That is all right. Is your young lady at home ? 

Sally, One of them is, sir ; the other has gone out riding. 

Gregg. Yes ? Well, you tell your young mistress that I have 
arrived, and would like to see her ; and then just direct some of 
the servants to attend to my luggage. 

Sally. Yes, sir. Take a seat, if you please. [Exit Sally. 

Gregg (seating himself). A few moments more, and the words 
will be spoken which will irrevocably decide my destiny. I 
wonder if she is half as pretty as Arthur has described in his let- 
ters? I declare I have felt like a man groping his way in the 
dark, in this odd way of courting , and yet I doubt if I could 
have loved her half as well in her actual presence, as I have 
learned to do through the medium of another's praises. There 
is something so romantic about it ; so much like the interchange 
of spirits, which defy time and space, that it has quite captivated 
me ; and she will be all the better pleased with me, no doubt, 



A FRIEND AT COUET. 175 

on the same account ! She has no doubt sent off that cousin of 
hers, that Arthur has also told me about, so that nothing should 
interrupt us in our first meeting. Arthur says the cousin is a very 
attractive girl ; and from the way he talks I should judge she 
had proved exceedingly so for Mm, ha ! ha ! so he has, no doubt, 
received very satisfactory pay for his services, and everybody 
"will be suited. But here she comes ! I hear her footsteps ! 

Enter Anna. 

Anna. This is Mr. Gregg, I presume ! Good afternoon, sir ! 
I am sorry that my— 

Gregg {interrupting). No regrets are necessary, I assure you ! 
— (aside) — Arthur has described her to the life in his pen pictures, 
— only he did not do her sufficient justice. 

Anna (aside). He is even better than Mr. Gardiner described 
him to be ! I dont see how anybody could be indifferent to such 
a splendid offer !— (aloud) — But, my dear sir, I wish to explain — 

Gregg. Explain how you happened to be the only one to meet 
me, eh ! that doesn't need any, my dear young lady ; for I can 
match it with a counter explanation that you are the very one I 
most wish to meet. 

Anna (aside). He has mistaken me for Lilla, I must undeceive 
him ; and yet how unwilling I feel to do so ! — (aloud) — Mr. 
Gregg, you— 

Gregg (aside). If the cousin Arthur has written me about is 
half as attractive as this one, he is signally favored !— (aloud)— 
My dear, excuse me ! — but before you say any more, let me 
state my case, and let me also ask pardon for my delaying so 
long to take possession of such a treasure. I have learned to love 
you 'ere I came, and now I wish to ratify our engagement, and 
win from your own sweet lips that which has hitherto been a 
tacit consent to our union ! 

Anna (aside). Such a delightful lover ! what would I not have 
given to be in Lilla's position ! — (aloud) — Mr. Gregg, you are 
mistaken ; I am not — 

Gregg (interrupting). Not free? is that what you would say ! 

Anna (blushing). No; not that at all, but— 

Gregg. Then nothing else shall stand between us ! I have 
carried your picture, as Arthur has sketched it for me, for weeks, 
in my heart and affections. 

Anna (starting, aside). My picture ! can it be possible, that — 

Gregg (aside). She is shy— the little darling ! but I will make 
up now, by my perseverance, for all former deficiencies ! — 
(aloud) — My dear young lady, I have looked forward to this in- 
terview for weeks; will you not award me a favorable answer ! I 
love you ; will you be my wife ? 

Anna. Mr. Gregg ! I am not the one to receive your addresses ; 
—my cousin— 



176 A FRIEND AT COURT. 

Gregg K asidc). Ah ! she is jealous ! the darling ! but I'll soon 
set that right ! — (aloud) — Let me assure you, that you, — and not 
your cousin, arc the object of rny affections. I have heard of 
her, it is true, through the medium of my friend's letters— but 
you are the one, for whom my warmest love and admiration has 
beeu enlisted ! 

Anna (aside). I cannot comprehend this! — (aloud) — Mr. 
Gregg, lam afraid— 

Gregg. Afraid that any one could rival you in my affections? 
No ! no ! I recognise in you all those qualities which Arthur has 
described to me, only in far greater proportion. Do not delay my 
happiness longer ! Tell me, you are not quite indifferent to me ? 

Ass A (Mushing). Xo: but I cannot — 

Gregg. You cannot, . must not refuse me ! I will never love 
any but you ! are you convinced now, dear girl? 

Anna (aside). He is so determined, that I don't see that any 
way is left but to accept him ! 

Gregg. Speak to me, dearest! let me hear you say that you 
love me ! 

Anna (ba sit fully). I do love you, very much, Mr. Gregg! 

Gregg. My angel ! a^.d you will be my wife? 

Anna. If you wish it! although if you are disappointed with 
your choice, remember you would have it so! 

Gregg. Disappointed? 1 am the happiest, most favored of 
men ! never can any other be so desirable in my eyes ! 

Anna. And though I have no worldly possessions — 

Gregg. You are a sufficient treasure in yourself, my beloved— 
what is my darling's name? 

Anna. Anna, dear Mr. Gregg! 

Gregg. ' 'James, " dear Anna ! and though your father should— 

Enter Lilla and Arthur. 

Arthur (aside). Mercy, Lilla, he has proposed to her ! 

Lilla (aside). Isn't that splendid ! 

Gregg (looking up). Who are these, my love ? 

Anna (rising). Mr. Gregg, I now have the opportunity of mak- 
ing the explanation you prevented me from making before. This 
young lady is my cousin, Miss Lilla De Forest ! 

Gregg. De Forest ! why that was the young lady I was to 
marry ! 

Anna. I tried in vain to convince you ! but now — (buries her 
face in her hands). 

Gregg. And yet, Anna is the one whose portrait I have most 
vividly impressed on my mind, from Arthur's letters. 

Arthur. I described' them both to you, Mr. Gregg, but— 

Gregg, But the inference was very plain that this dear girl 
was the most — 

Lilla. And so she is, Mr. Gregg! the one best fitted to make 



A FRIEND IN COURT. 177 

yon a good wife ; and she loves you, too, — for I have discovered 
her secret ! So take her, and allow me to congratulate you both 
with all my heart '.—(Anna raises her head). 

Gregg (taking her hand). My heart responds to that com- 
mand, dear Anna, despite this mistake. But I cannot under- 
stand how T could have misunderstood my friend so. He gave 
me to understand that the cousin, had won his love and regard ! 

Lilla {roguishly) . We are both cousins, Mr. Gregg; and by 
that means very easily adjusted to suit circumstances ! 

Gregg. Ah ! I see ! so the wind sets in that direction, eh ? 

Lilla. Mr. Gregg, I will be frank with you, and tell you that 
I am engaged to Arthur, whom I had met and loved before leav- 
ing school ; and since kind Fortune threw us together here, after 
we had apparently been hopelessly separated, we could not but 
interpret her gracious decrees aright; and to save you from dis- 
appointment, we concocted this little scheme to interest you and 
Anna— so vastly better fitted for you than I would be— in each 
other, with this happy result. So dear Anna, you have your 
wish and your lover,! 

Anna (embracing her). Lilla, yon are an angel ! and I am the 
happiest girl that breathes ! 

Enter De Forest. 

De Forest. A thousand pardons, Gregg, for my absence ! 
but it was unavoidable, and I have hurried home at a perfectly 
break-neck pace ! And now let me present to you your future 
wife ! (takes Lilla' s hand). 

Lilla (drawing aiuuy). I beg your pardon, papa ! You have 
hold of the wroug person, entirely ! 

De Forest. What do you mean ? 

Lilla. Mr. Gregg has already met, and formally acjmow.edged 
his affianced wife ! and they are both perfectly satisfied ! 

De Forest. Satisfied ? fire and furies ! What do you mean by 
sajTng that you are the wrong person, then? 

Lilla. Simply because Mr. Gregg has acted like a sensible 
man, and engaged himself to one better suited to him in every 
way, than a madcap like me. (bows to Anna). 

De Forest. Do my ears hear aright? Anna f Explain your- 
self, you minx ! 

Gregg. Let me explain, De Forest. It seems that your 
daughter there— as all girls will— had contracted an affection for 
that young man by her side, while yet at school — and when I, 
in utter ignorance of the fact, sent him down here to court her 
for me, it ended as might be expected, in his proving much the 
most attractive, himself! In the letters I've received there have 
been such volumnious descriptions of a young lady, whom I sup- 
posed was your daughter, that they have quite captivated me ; 
and upon coming here, I find that this young lady is the correct 



178 A FRIEND IN COURT. 

original. I'll do her the credit to say that she tried her bi 
undeceive me, but she was so attractive, and I was in such 

earnest to have her, that I wouldn't let her say a word un 
promised to marry me ; and with all duo respect to yon 
your daughter, I must say that I am more than satisfied with my 
sion ! 

Deforest. Well I declare! this is pretty business ! Lilla, 
I*ve a mind to shut you up upon bread and water for a week ! 
And as for you, you young scamp ! the author of all this mis- 
chief— 

Ltlla (interrupting). Papa, I love him ! and if you send him 
away I'll go too ! so, I give you fair warning ! 

Gregg. Let me plead for them, De Forest ! Arthur is a fine 
young man, and capable of achieving a competency in a few 
years ! And I'll further his interests, provided they are identi- 
cal with your daughter's ! 

Arthur. Let me say, Mr. De Forest, in self extenuation, that 
I was totally ignorant until my arrival here, that your daughter 
and the young lady whose beauty and winning grace had capti- 
vated my affections were one and the same ! I had fled her pres- 
ence before, because I heard that her wealth and station separated 
us ; but when under the spell of her attractions again, and I 
learned that my sentiments found an echo in her 
heart, I could not prove traitor to my heart's best emotions ! I 
ask but for time, when I will present myself before you with a 
fortune that shall make me in that respect, your and her equal ! 
"Will you bestow upon me your blessing? Will you permit me to 
call my own your daughter's love, and cheer my heart with the 
promise of her hand ? 

De Forest. Well, well ! I give in ! You've outwitted me, 
as young folks always will, when they've a mind to ! Anna, my 
dear. I congratulate you, and will say for you that you are well 
worthy so good a hnsband and so brilliant a position ! 

Anna. Thank you, uncle ! 

Lilla. Papa, you're a darling ! And now every one is satisfied ! 

Gregg. Yes ; since this dear girl has so met and answered my 
every expectation ! But this denouement shall serve as a useful 
lesson to me ! that when I have another project in contemplation, 
the safest way will be to attend to it in person, and not trust 
again to the agency of A Friend at Court. 

CURTAIN, 



DICK'S 

Recitations and Readings. 



± carefully compiled Series of Volumes, uniform in size ani 

style, which will include everything that is fresh and 

■popular, introducing, also, the older Gems of 

the English Language that are always 

in demand: embracing 

CHARACTER SKETCHES, DIALECT PIECES, 
HUMOROUS, SENTIMENTAL, 

PATHETIC, PATRIOTIC, 

ELOQUENT, AND SERIOUS. 

Hesitations and Headings in Poetry and Prose, excluding every 

thing that is not eminently appropriate, either 

for Declamation or Public Beading. 



Each Number contains about 180 Pages of Reading Matter, 
printed on fine paper, from clear type, and handsomely bound 

in Illuminated Paper Cover 30 cts. 

Or Full Cloth 50 cts. 

Fifteen Numbers of the above Series are now ready, and a nov 

Number will be published every three months. 



f The Publishers, upon receipt of price, will send any of flu 
following looks by mail, postage feee, to any part of the 
United States. In ordering books, the full name, post-office, 
county and State should be plainly written. 



We publish a complete Descriptive Catalogue, which will be sent 
free on application. 

DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 

B*X 3975. NEW YORK. 



Popular Boohs Bent Free of Post age at the Prices Annexed. 

Frost's Dialogues for Young Folks. A Collection of OrigL 
ual, Moral and Humorous Dialogues. Adapted to the use of School and 
Cbnreu Exhibitions, Family Gatherings and Juvenile Celebrations on all 
Oeoasious. ii,) S. A. Frost. 



CONTENTS. 



Hovel Beading 

The Bound Girl 

W-riting a Letter 

The Wonderful Scholar. 



The Language of Flowers . . 

The Morning Call 

The Spoiled Child 

The Little Travelers 

Little Things 

G eneroslty 

Country Cousins 

Winning the Prize , 

The Unfortunate Scholar. . . 
The Day of Misfortunes — 

Jealousy 

The May Queen 

Temptation Resisted 



1 


1 




4 




2 


! 


2 


4 






4 




4 




4 ' 


2 


o | 


1 


1 




2 




4 , i 




~ 




4 ! 


3 


1 


1 


3 I 




5 i 


3 1 


1 



16mo, Paper Covers. Price. 
Bound iu Boards 



Contexts. 



A TMaco for Everything 

1 Want to be a Soldier ., 

Self-Denial 

The Traveler , 

Idleness the Mother of Evil. . 

The French Lesson 

Civility Never Lost 

Who Work* the Hardest ?. . . 

The Everlasting Talker 

The Epicure , 

True Charity 

Starting in Life 

I Didn't Mean Anything 

Ambition 

Choosing a Trade 

The Schoolmaster Abroad.... 

AVhite Lies 

The Hoyden 



9 

7 
3 
1 

30cts. 
50cts, 



Frost's New Bock of Dialogues. A series of entirely new and 
original humorous Dialogues, specially adapted for performance at School 
Anniversaries and Exhibitions, or other Festivals and Celebrations of tho 
Young Folks. 



Contents. 



Slang versus Dictionary ...... 

Country or City 

Turning the Tables 

The Force jf Imagination 

The Modern Robinson Crusoe. 

The Threatened Visit 

The Dandy and the Boor 

Nature versus Education 

The British Lion and Ameri- 
can Hoosier 

Curing a Pedant 

Pursuit of Knowledge under 
Difficulties 

The Daily Governess . . «., 

The Army and Navy 

Economy is Wealth 



Contents. 



The Intelligence Office 

Cats 

Too Fine and Too Plain 

The Fourth of July Oration. . . 

The Sewing Circle 

Fix * 

The Yankee Aunt ; 2 

The Walking Encyclopedia.. .5 
The Novel Readers. . 

The Model Farmer 2 

Buying a Sewing-Maehine ...14 

Sam "Wellers Valentine 2 

The Hungry Traveler ... 

Deaf as a Post .. ...... 

The Rehearsal .. 



These Dialogues are admirably adapted or home performance 
quire no set scenery for their representation! By S A. Frost 180 

Paper covers. Price •.. 30 

Pound in boards, cloth baok 60 



rv thoy r* 
nnges, l6'7no 

30ctft 

W •* 



Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed. 

^ ■ ■ ■ «i 

Frost's Humorous and Exhibition Dialogues. This is a col- 
lection of sprightly, original Dialogues, in Prose and Terse, feuded to b« 
spoken at School Exhibitions. By S. A. Frost. 



Contents. 



Bumps 

Amateur Farming 

Tho Valentine..." 

Aunt Bethiah's Journey 

Will You Advertise ] 

Sallies Visit to the City 

Country Quiet 

Circumstances Alter Cases 

School or Work 

Bella's Visit to Camp. 

The Hypochondriac 

Cross Purposes 

Rural Felicity 



Contents. 



The Chatterbox 

Putting on Airs 

Writing a Tragedy 

Morning Calls 

When the Cat's Away the 

Mice will Play 

Very Bashful..*. 

It Xever Bains but it Peurs. .. 

A Slight Mistake 

Munchausen Outdone 

The Train to Manx© 

The Unwilling Witness 

The Age f Progress 



1 

The Dialogues are all good, and will recommend themselves to Oose who 
desire to have innocent fun— the prevailing feature at a school ee'ebralion. 

.180 pages. Paper covers. Price ,30 CC3, 

Bound in boards 50 CtS. 



Holmes' Very Little Dialogues for Very Little Folks. 

Containing forty-seven new and original dialogues, wit'n short and easy 
parts, almost entirely in words of one syllable, suited to the capacity ana 
comprehension of very young children. 



Contents. 

The Bird's Nest 

All About Two Dolls. . . 

Cm. a Man 

What are Little Boys Good 

For? 

ThePartv 

The Rose Bush 

Which is Best? 

The Drum 

Willie's Walk 

The Parrot 

The Story 

How Daisy Went to School 

Clara's Gifts 

What Tommy Found 

The Bond Man 

Poor Sick Lucy 

Josie's Fault 

The Rain Fairy 

G-uess ! 

The Sick Doll 

Work or Play 

The Boat 

Little Mischief 



2 


1 


: 2 


2 


1 












2 


2 




1 


1 


2 




I 


1 


2 






2 ! 


1 


2 




2 


2 






2 


1 


1 




3 




2 


1 


a 


1 


i i 


1 


1 i ; 


2 


i 




i l< 



Contexts. 



The Cow in the Garden 

Our Verse 

Jack's Nap 

The Little Beggars 

The Doll's Sash" 

I Wish .. 

The Cousin From the City. . . 

Afraid of the Dark 

May's Five Dollar Note 

The Snow 

Harry s Wish 

The Dead Bird 

The Orange Tree 

Little by Little 

Kitty's Bath 

A Stitch in Time Saves Nine 

Keeping Store. . , 

The Stolen PfcN; 

Lulu's Picture 

Mother Goose's Party , 

Oh, Dear! 

That Echo 

The Xew Quarters. 



Visit of Santa Claus 10 



Paper covers. Price 

gonad in boards cioth back. 



30 cts. 
50 cts. 



Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed. 

!YIeBride's Comic Dialogues for School Exhibitions and 
Literary Entertainments. A collection of Original Humor- 

ons Dialogues, especially designed for the development ami display of ama- 
teur dramatic talent, and Introducing a variety of seutimeutal, sprightly. 

comic and genuine Yankee characters, andotiicr ingeniously developed eo- 
oentrioities. By H. Elliott McBride. 



Contexts. 

Prom Punkin Ridge 

Arabella's Poor Relations. 
A How in the Kitchen. . . . 
The Gumtown Woman's As- 
sociation 

Advertising for a Husband — 

Ivery Inch a Gintleraan 

Goose Hollow Farmer's Club. 
Reunion of Peter and Jane. ... 

Awful Boots 

A Pain in the Side 

16rao, illuminated paper covers. P 



(i 


3 


g 


2 


I 


2 


2 


ti 


3 


1 


3 


2 


9 




2 


2 


3 


1 


L 


o 



Contents. 

Something to our Advantage . . 

Jimtown Lyceum 

"United at Last 

Scene in a Backwoods School.. 
Trouble in a Mormon Family.. 

Josiah's Proposal 

The Stage-Struck Blacksmith. 
A Rumpus in a Shoemaker's 

Shop 

Recess Speeches 



i. 


I 


p 


J 


i 


I 


.> 


3 


•< 


1 


8 




1 


5 


:; 


I 


4 


J 




1 


j 


S 



.30 eta 



Bound in boards ■ 50 Cta 



McBride' s All Kinds of Dialogues. A collection of Orig- 
inal Humorous and Domestic Dialogues, introducing Yankee, French, L-ish, 
Dutch, and other characters. Excellently adapted for Amateur perform- 
ances. Br EL Elliott McBride. 



Contexts. 



Contexts. 



! Personating Olders 

Peleg and Patience 

Snarl's Children 

i "Woman's Rights 

A Boys' Meeting ». 

Mr. Worth's Farm Hands.... 

Charlie's Speech 

Mrs. Thompson's Xephew.... 

An Anti-Railroad Meeting. ... 

Saved. 

The Bung town Lyceum , 



Jeduthan and Jane 

Cured 

Out All Around 

The Pine Valley Boys 

Marrving a Poetess 

The Old Aunt 3 1 

Rejected 1 2 

An Evening at Home 1 3 

John Robb and Anna Cobb. . . i 3 3 

A Reconstructed Man 1 

An Interrupted Proposal 1 2 

A Visit from the Smiths | 4 4 

This book constitutes a second series of McBrile's Comic Dialogues, and. 
affords an additional variety f the spirited dialogues and short dramatic 
scenes contained in the latter book. They are all entirely original, and develop 
in a marked degree the eocentricities and peculiarities of the various ideal, but 
genuine characters which are represented in them. They are specially adapted 
for School Exhibitions and all other celebrations where the success of th ? en- 
tertainment is partly or entirely dependent on the efforts of the young folks. 

Illuminated paper covers. Price 30 cta 

Hound in boards 50 ftts> 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 



McBRIDE'S TEMPERANCE DIALOGUES. 

A collection of original Temperance Dialogues, intended for the nso of 
Schools, Temperance Societies, Bands of Hope, Divisions, Lodges, Literary- 
Circles and home performance, introducing Yankee, Irish, Dutch, Negro 
and other characters. By H. Elliott McBride. 

COISTTEISTTS. 

Acting Drunk 4 Male characters. 

Banish ing the Bitters 3 Male and 1 Female character. 

The Poisoned Darkies 3 Male characters. 

A Meeting of Liquor Dealers 5 Male characters. 

Out of the Depths 5 Male and 2 Female characters. 

Arresting the March of Intemperance 3 Male and 1 Female character. 

tfmud's Command ; or, Yielding to Temptation. . 2 Male and 3 Female characters. 

A Beer-Drinker's Courtship 3 Male and 1 Female character. 

Ralph Coleman's Reformation 4 Male and 3 Female characters. 

Barney's Resolution 1 Male and 1 Female character. 

Commencing to Work 3 Male characters. 

A Temperance Meeting 7 Male characters. 

Tfie Closing of the "Eagle " 4 Male and 2 Female characters. 

Don't Marry a Drunkard to Reform Him 8 Male and 3 Female characters. 

Obtaining a Promise 1 Male and 1 Female character. 

183 pages, illuminated paper cover 30 ct8 

Board cover. t ,. , 50 CtS 



McBRIDE'S HUMOROUS DIALOGUES. 

Designed for School Exhibitions, Literary Entertainments, and Amateur 
Theatricals. By H. Elliott McBride. A collection of new and humorous 
dialogues, full of humor and witty repartee; some of them introducing the 
Inimitable conceits and drolleries of Irish, Dutch, Yankee and other Dialect 
characters. 

CONTENTS. 

Striking the Blow , 1 Male and 4 Female characters. 

Curing the Borrowers 2 Male and 3 Female characters. 

Another Arrangement 2 Male and 2 Female characters. 

Scene in the Bobtown Schooc 9 Male characters. 

Mrs. Bolivar's Quilting 6 Female characters. 

A Rumpus 4 Female characters. 

Scene in a Railway Station 4 Male and 2 Female characters. 

A Pantaloon Fight 1 Male and 2 Female characters. 

A Boys' Meeting 5 Male characters. 

A Happy Family 3 Male and 2 Female characters. 

A Farmers' Meeting 6 Male characters. 

Uncle Sam's Wars.. , 7 Male and 1 Female character. 

Riches Have Wings 3 Male and 3 Female ch aracters. 

Tlie Reclaimed Father 5 Male and 1 Female character. 

Leaving Jonah 3 Male and 1 Female character. 

192 pages, illuminated paper cover 30 cts 

.Boards , „ „ 50 cts 



Kavanaugh's Exhibition Reciter, for Very- 
Little Children. A collection of entirely Original Keci- 
tations, Dialogues and Short Speeches, adapted for very 
little boys and girls; ineluding also a variety of nieces, hu- 
morous, * serious and dramatic, suitable for children from 
Three to Ten Years Old, for Public aud Private School Ex- 
hibitions and other Juvenile Entertainments. 

It also includes a May-Day Festival for very little children, 
and a number of beautiful Speaking Tableaux. By the author 
of " Kavanaugh's Juvenile Speaker," 

CONTENTS. 



Salutatory 

The Gipsy's Warning 

Grandma's Talk 

Santa Claus 

They ask Me why I am so bad. 

The Power of Justice 

May Celebration 

Speech of Crown-Bearer 

Speech of Sceptre-Bearer. . . 

Speech of Daisy 

Speech of Snow Drop 

Speech of Rose 

Speech of Lily 

Speech of Venus 

Speech of Cupid 

Speech of Temperance 

Speech of Bacchus 

Speech of Comet 

Speech of May-Queen 

The Months 

The Four Queens 

Saint and Sinner 

The Dog in the Manger 

Where There's a WiU, There's 

a Way 

Eepartee 

The Midgets' Greeting 

Boys will be Boys 

The Dog and His Shadow 

A Fellow who is Game 

The Five Wishes 

What has been Done may be 

Done Again 

The Lark and her Young Ones. 

Duly Five 

Poor Old Maids 

Money is King 

The Two Frogs 

The Little Gentleman , 

Confidence Versus Merit 

The Old Man and Death 

The Old Year Out and the New 

Year In 



OD 


i 






« 


(9 


1 


2 


1 




1 




1 


9 




1 




1 




1 




1 




1 




1 




1 


1 




1 




1 






1 




1 


3 


9 


2 


4 


1 




1 




1 


1 


1 


1 




1 1 




6 


1 






1 


1 




1 


i 


1 




6 


6 



I'm Little But I'm Spunky. . 
The Fox who Lost His Tail . . 
The Gray Mare is the Better 

Horse 

Keep out of Debt 

The Apple of Discord 

The Smallest Grade 

The Birth of Paris 

The Boy and the Wolf 

The Origin of the Peacock . 

Little Midget 

The Wolf and the Bear 

Scene from "Robin Hood.. 

What Grandma Thinks 

The Fox and the Goat 

The Fairy's Revenge 

Good Night 

Four Years 

The Boy and His Mother. . . 

'Never Look Back 

Yours Truly 

An Old-Time Breakdown... 
The Man and the Goose. ... 
Speech for a Six- Year-Old. . 
Speech for a Little Boy. . . 

In Twenty Years 

Little Miss Ray 

A Hopeful Youth 

The Choicest Goods 

Valedictory 

Valedictory 

The Peddler's Caravan 

Robin Redbreast's Secret.. 

Why? 

The Concert in the Wood. . 



MUSIC. 

The Gipsy's Warning 

Jewels Bright 

BabvFair 

Gentle Zitella 

Tell Me, Where do Fairies 
Dwell? 






Bound in Jilurninated Paper Covers 30 cts. 

Bound in niuminated Board Covers 50 ots. 



Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed. 
Kavanaiisfh's Juvenile Speaker. For very little boys and 

girls. Containing short and easily-learned Speeches and Dialogues, ex- 
pressly adopted for School Celebrations. May-Day Festivals and other Chil- 
dren's Entertainments. By Mrs. Eussell Kavanaugh. This book is just tliQ 
thing for Teachers, as it gives a great number of short pieces lor very youug 
children, with directions for appropriate dresses. 

It includes a complete programme for a May-Day Festival, with opening 
chorus and appropriate speeches for nineteen boys and girls, including 
nearly forty additional speeches for youug and very small children. 

It introduces the May-Pole Dance, plainly described in every detail, and 
forming a very attractive and pleasing exhibition. 

Besides the above, it contains the following Dialogues and Recitations, for 
two, three or more boys aud girls of various ages : 



Salutatory 

Salutatory 

Opening Song 

Opening Recitation 

Ah Interrupted iiecitation . • . 

An Imaginative Invention 

Speech 

A Joyful Surprise 

An Oration 

How He Had Him 

The Old Maid 

The Old Bachelor 

Poetrv, Prose and Fact 

The Dumb Wife 

To Inconsistent Husbands 

Small Pitchers have Large 

Ears 

Sour Grapes 

Not Worth While to Hate . . . 
A Strike Among the Flowers. 

A Witty Retort 

The Young Critic 

"They Say" 

Speech 

" Angels Can Do No More.''.. 

Recitation 

Dialogue 

Holiday Speech 

The Lov e-Scrape 

An Old Ballad..., 

The Milkmaid 

Billy Grimes, the Drover 

i J r. mdmother's Beau 

Speech 

Honesty the Best Poliey 



1 




1 






13 


1 


12 


1 


1 


1 






1 


3 


o 


o 


1 




1 


1 




L 


•2 


1 




1 






2 


1 




1 






1 


1 




2 






1 


1 




1 




1 




1 


1 


1 




2 


1 


1 


1 


1 


1 




2 




1 


1 




4 





Balance Due 

Recitation 

The Coming Woman 

Speech 

The Power of Temper 

Truth and Falsehood 

Recitation 

Recitation 

Recitation 

Christmas Forty Years Ago . 

Speech 

Trying Hard 

The School-Boy 

Recitation 

"I Told You So" 

Speech 

Speech 

Speech 

Choosing a Name.. 

Baby Bye 

Dialogue. 

Little Puss 

Poor Men vs. Rich Men 

Helping Papa and Mamma.. 

Annabel's 1 irst Party 

The Spendthrift Doll 

The Little Mushrooms. 

Valedictory 

Riding in the Cars 

Riding in the Cars 

Speech 

The Cobbler's Secret 

Dialogue 

Valedictory 



The whole embraces a hundred and twenty-three easy and very effective 
pieces, from which selections can be made to suit the capacities of boys and 
girls of from two to sixteen years of age. 



16mo, illuminated paper cover. 
" Boards 



Price SO ets. 

SOcts. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
Graham's School Dialogues for Young People. A new an* 

original collection of Dialogues intended for Anniversaries and Exhibitions. 
By G eorge C. Graham, These dialogues have been written expressly to givo 
advanced scholars nn opportunity for displaying their dramatic powers and 
ingenuity; they aro exceedingly amusing, and full of ludicrous and telling 
stage-situations. 



Contexts. 



The Empty House 

Turning t lie Tables 

A Doctor by Proxy 

Strategy. ..". 

The Picnic Party 

A a A spirant for Fame . . . 
The New Boy 

"Which was the Hero ?. . . 
Astonishing the Natives. 

The Critics 

The Expected Visitor. . . . 



5 


1 


4 




6 


1 




4 


3 


3 


3 




4 




3 






3 


G 






6 



Contexts. 



A Nightmare of India. . . 

An Tadian Paid 

Going ! Going ' Gone ! . . . 

The Book-Peddler 

The Burglar- Alarm 

Missed Ilia Chance 

The Girl of the Period... 
The Photograph Gallery. 

The Elocution Class 

Love and Stratagem 

Extremes Meet 



'6mo, 176 pages, illuminated paper cover. Price. 
44 •• « board " «' . 



2 
3 
1 
3 
3 

3 
3 

30cts. 
50cts. 



Burbank's Recitations and Readings. A collection of Hu- 
morous, Dramatic and Dialeet Selections, edited and arranged tor publie 
reading or recitation, by Alfrea P. Burbank. Containing many choice seleo 
tious never before in print, as well as some old favorites. 

COKTETSTTS. 



Conn s Desci-iption of the Fox Hunt. 

The Tailor's Thimble. 

The O'Kelly Cabin. 

The "Oolaghaun.'' 

Pip Van Winkle. 

The Death of the Old Squire. 

Schneider's Description of " Leah." 

Love on the Half-Shell. 

Father Phil's Collection. 

A Literary Nightmare. 

The Birth" of Ireland. 

The Irishman's Panorama. 

Monev Musk. 

The Ship of Faith. 

Pup pup- poetry. 

A .Senator Entangled. 

Christmas-Night in the Quarters. 

A Love Song. 

The Steamboat Pace. 

The Swell 

The Little Stow-away. 

lfano. 150pp. Price..., , 



Su.riv Tim's Trouble. 

The Water Mill. 

Th,} Fall of the Pembertoa Mill. 

Detith of Little Jo. 

The Soldier's Reprieve. 

Brother Anderson. 

A Basket of Flowers. 

Mah'sr John. 

Daddv Flick's Spree. 

The Ballad of Babie BelL 

Aux Italians. 

Breitmann in Maryland. 

*' The Morning Argus " Obituary Do 

partment. 
Snyder's Nose. 

Magdalena, or the Spanish DneL 
•'Bay Billy." 

Return of the Hillside Legion. 
Cuddle Doon. 
Sheridan's Bide. 
The Power of Prayer. 

..25ctfc 



Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed. 

+ ■ — ■ 

Frost's Dramatic Proverbs and Charades. Containing a col- 
lection of Original Proverbs and Charades, some of -which are for Dramatia 
Performance, and others arranged for Tableaux Vivants. By S. A. Frost. 
Consisting of the following : 

DRAMATIC CHARADES. 



Masterpiece 2 2 

Stratagem 2 2 

Antidote 2 3 

Dramatic 3 2 

DRAMATIC I 
Faint Heart Never "Won Pair 

Lady 2 1 

There's Many a Slip 'Twixt 

the Cup and the Lip 



Refinement I 2 

Love-Sick 2 

Wayward 2 

Manager | 5 



When Poverty Comes in at the 
Door, Love" flies out at the 
Window 

All that G-litters is not Gold . . . 



CHARADES IN TABLEAUX VIVANTS. 



Falsehood 3 Tableaux. 

Penitent 3 Tableaux. 

Mendicant 3 Tableaux. 

Novite 3 Tableaux. 

PROVERBS EN" TABLEAUX. 

Listeners Hear no Good of Them 



Washington 3 Tableaux. 

Mischief 3 Tableaux. 

Koiighthood 3 Tableaux. 



selves. 
Do not Trifle with Edged Tools. 
Charity Begins at Home. 



When the Cat's Away the Mice will 

Play. 
There's no Rose Without a Thorn. 
Killing Two Birds with One Stone. 
It is no use to Cry over Spilt Milk. 

This book comprises a selection of Acting Proverbs and ingenious Charades, 
taken from " The Parlor Stage," a larger work by the same author. 

16mo, illuminated paper cover 30 cts. 

Bound in Boards 50 Cts. 



Frost's Parlor Acting Charades. Intended solely for Per- 
formance in the Drawing-Room, and requiring no expensive Scenery or Prop- 
erties to render them effective. By S. A. Frost. This work contains the 
following 

DRAMATIC CHARADES. 

i I i I 



Matrimony. . . 
Misfortune. . . 
Stage-Struck 

Marplot 

Mad-Cap 

Inconstant . . . 



3 4 

2 3 

2 2 
1 4 

3 2 

4 2 



Domestic .... 
Purse-Proud. 
Bridegroom. . 

Mistake 

Manage 

Masquerade . 



These excellent and original Charades are full of brilliant repartee and 
umusiag situations. They are selected from " The Parlor Stage," by tha 
Bame author. 

16mo, illuminated paper cover 80 ctai 

J6mo, illuminated boards 50 otst 



Popular Bootes Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed, 
Wugent's Burlesque and Musical Acting Charades. By 

ifidmnnd C. Nugent. Containing ton Charades, all in different styles, two 
of which are easy and effective Comic Parlor Operas, with Music and Piano- 
forte Accompaniments. To each Charade will be found an introductory 
note, containing directions and hints for its successful performance. 



Contents. 

Hicrh Life. Operatic Style 

Dark Deeds, Ren Rational Style 
Marry in Haste and Repent at 

Leisure, Bombastic Style... 
Wearing of the Green, Bouci- 

cnultian Irish Style 

The Result of a Nap, Farcical 

Style 

Blue' Beard, Burlesque Style . . 

Paper covers. Price 

Bound in boards, cloth back .. 



J 

3 


1 


o 


3 


3 


2 


3 


3 


3 


3 


3 


2 


9 


2 



Contents. 

Monsieur Pierre, Pathetic Style 

Virtue Victorious, old standard 
Comedy Style 

Love, Domestic Style 

Afloat and Ashore, Maritime 
Style 

Tragedy Transmogrified, Bow- 
ery Style 

Fairy Freaks, Fantastio Style. 



a! 



3 
3 

30 eta. 
50 eta. 



Hudson's Private Theatricals for Home Performance. A col- 
lection of fourteen humorous plays, suitable for an amateur entertain- 
ment. 

| Contents. Jj | 



Contents. 



Explanation of Stage Direc 
tions. 

How to Carry Out a Perform- 
ance Successfully. 

A Spanking Legacy 

A Slight Mistake 

Two "Gentlemen at Mivart's 

Furnished Apartments 5 

Fireside Diplomacy 2 

Slighted Treasures 

180 pages. Paper covers. Price. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back. 



The Dutchman's Ghost 

Money Makes the Man 

A Silent Protector 

The Stage-Struck Clerk 

The Duchess of Mansfeldt 

A Pair of Pigeons 

A Most Unwarrantable Intru- 
sion 

Fairly Taken In 



30 cts. 
.50 eta. 



Frost's Book of Tableaux and Shadow Pantomimes. Con- 
taining a choice collection of Tableaux or Living Pictures, embracing: 

full directions for performing them. 
How to Arrange a Stage for Tab. 

leaux. 
How to Costume the Characters. 
How to Form Appropriate Groups. 



Moving Tableaux, Mother Goose 
Tableaux, Fairy-Tale Tableaux, 
Charade Tableaux, Proverb Tab- 
leaux, etc., etc. 

Shadow Acts and Pantomimes, with 



"\Tith complete stage instructions. 180 pages. 

Paper covers. Price , 30 eta. 

Bound ia boards..,. » j...... • 50 eta. 



Popul ar Books Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed. 
Parlor Theatricals; or, Winter Evenings' Entertainment. 

Abridged from " The Sociable." Containing Acting Proverbs, Dramatia 

Charades, Drawing-Boom Pantomimes, Musical Burlesques, Tableaux 

Vivants, etc.; "with instructions for Amateurs, how to construct a Stago 

and Curtain, how to get up Costumes and properties, on the " making- 

up " of Characters, Exits and Entrances, etc. Illustrated with engraving* 

Containing: 

ACTING PEOYEEBS. 

I 



''"When the Cat's Away, then 

the Mice will Play." 

" It Never Kains but it Pours." 

" Honor among Thieves." 

■" All is fair in Love or War." . 



1 


§ 


£ 


& 


7 


5 


5 


1 


4 


2 


3 


2 



'Tis an 111 wind that Blows' 

Nobody Good." 4 

There is no Kose without! 
Thorns." 2 



DBAMATIC CHAEADES. 



Phantom I 3 

Contest 2 

Dramatic 4 



Antidote. . . 
Friendship. 
Bandage . . . 



ACTING CHAEADES ; OE, DBAWING-EOOM PANTOMIMES. 



Sweepstakes 3 Acts. 

Piirtail 3 Acts. 



Pastil 3 Acts. 

Backgammon 3 Acts. 

A Little Misunderstanding. . .4 Acts. 



Neighbor 3 Acts. 

MUSICAL BURLESQUE. 

Orpheus and Eurydice; or, The Wandering Minstrel.. 4 Males and 2 Females. 

DEAWLNG-BOOM EAECE. 

Irresistibly Impudent 4 Males and 1 Femalo. 

Paper covers. Price 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 eta. 



Amateur Theatricals and Fairy-Tale Dramas. A Collec- 
tion of original plays, expressly designed for drawing-room performances. 
By Miss S. A. Frost. 

s - I 

Contents. « g Contents. J « 



Mr. John Smith 

The Young Amazon 

Wooing Under Difficulties. . . . 

Bolts and Bars 

All's Well that Ends Well. . . . 



12 


7 










4 


3 


3 


3 


3 


2 



Cinderella; or, The Little Glass 

Slipper 

Beauty and the Beast 

Blue Beard 



These plays were all written for the express purpose of being performed in a 
private parlor. They are short, amusing, and all new and original. 16mo, 
180 pages. 

Papercovers. Price 30 ota, 

Bound in boards, with cloth back ...50 Cts, 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 



Steele's Exhibition Dialogues. A Collection of Dramatic 

Dialogues and easy Plays, excellently adapted for Amateurs in Parlor 
and Exhibition Performances ; -with Hints and instructions relative to 
management, arrangements and other details necessary to render thorn 
successful. By Silas S. Steele. 

CONTENTS. 



The Stage-Struck Clerk. For C Males 

an-i ;j Females, 
The Tailor of Tlpperary. For 7 Males 

and £ Females. 
Opera Mad. For 7 Males and 1 Fe- 
male. 
The Painter's Studio. Portrait Sketch. 

For 2 Males. 
The Well of Death. For 2 males. 
Blanche of Devon. For 3 Males and 1 

Female. 
The Youth Who Never Saw a Woman. 

For 3 Males andl Female. 
The Masked Bali. For 3 Males and 2 

Females. 



The Hypochondriac. For £ Males and 1 

Ft mule. 
Two Families in One Room. For £ 

Males and 2 Females. 
The Country Cousin. F^r £ Males and 

2 Femahs. 
The Carpenter and his Apprentice. For 

8 Males. 
The Yankee Tar's Return. For 5 Males 

and 1 Female. 
The Lawyer, Doctor, Soldier and Actor. 

For 3 Males. 
The Children in the Wood. For 6 

Males and £ Females. 
The Wizard's Warning. For 2 Males. 



Paper covers. Price 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 CtS. 

Kavanaugh's Humorous Dramas for School Exhibitions and 

Private Theatricals. Consisting of short and easy Dramatic Pieces, 
suitable for Amateur Exhibitions. By Mrs. Russell Kavanaugk, author 
of " The Juvenile Speaker." 



Contents. 



Eh! What is it? 

That Awful Girl , 

The Lady Killer 

How I Made My Fortune. 
A Cure for Obstinancy. 



o £ 

« © 

2 

5 
1 



Contents. 



M 


O 


£ 


£ 


2 


3 


8 


8 


8 


2 


£ 


4 



A Fair Fight 

Between Two Stools. . . . 
The Pet of the School. . . 

Maud May's Lovers 

The Heiress' Buse 

Aunt Jerusha's Mistake 2 2 The Cardinal's Godson.. 

The foregoing collection of Dramas are all original, and were written ex- 
pressly for School and Parlor performance. 

Bound in boards 50 cts. 

Paper covers 30 cts. 

Dick's One Hundred Amusements for Evening Parties, 

PiOnicS and Social Gatherings. This book is full of Original Novelties. 
It contains : 



A variety of new and ingenious puzzle*. 

Comical illusions, fully described. 
These surprising and grotesque, illu- 
sions are very startling in their 
effects, and present little or no diffi- 
culty in their preparation. 

ALSO AN ENTIRELY NEW VERSION OF THE CELEBBATED "MBS. JABLEY'S WAX 
AVOEKS." 

The whole being illustrated by sixty fine wood engravings. 

Illuminated paper covers 30 cts. 

Lo and in boards, with cloth back 60 Ct3« 



Xe t and Attractive Games, clearly il- 
lustrated by meant of Witty Ex- 
amples, showing how each may be 
nu si successfully played. 

Surpassing Tricks, easy of performance. 

Musical and other innocent sells. 



Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed. 

& <•• ■«• 

Burton's Amateur Actor. A Complete Guide to Private The- 
atricals ; giving plain directions for arranging, decorating and lighting the 
Stage and its appurtenances, with rules and suggestions for mounting, re- 
hearsing and performing all kinds of Plays, Parlor Pantomimes and Shadow 
Pantomimes. Elustrated with numerous engravings, and including a se- 
lection of original Plays, with Prologues, Epilogues, etc. By C. E. Burton. 

CONTENTS. 



How to form an Amateur Company. 

Duties of the Manager and Prompter. 

Theatrical Music. 

Pules for an Amateur Company. 

How to Arrange a Stage. 

How to Make a Curtain. 

How to Light the Stage. 

Colored and Calcium Light Effects. 

How to Make and Paint the Scenes. 

Hew to Imitate Moonlight, Sunrise, 
Thunder, Pain, "Wind and various 
other effects. 

How to make all kinds of "Proper- 
ties." 

How to make up Presses, "Wigs, 
Beards, etc. 

How to " make up " the Face to imi- 
tate Old Men and other characters. 

General Directions for Acting. 

Stage Business, Entrances and Exits. 

Pour Appropriate Prologues; Three 
Epilogues. 

16mo, illuminated paper covers. Price 30 cts. 

Bound in Boards 50 cts. 



On the Selection of Plays. 

A Family Eix. Comedy for Three 
Males and three Females. 

The Philopena. Comedy for two 
Males and one Female. 

Directions for Performing Parlor 
Pantomimes. 

Love's Obstacles; or, Jack's Tri- 
umph. An Original Parlor Panto- 
mime. 

Complete Directions for Performing 
Shadow Pantomimes. 

Detailed Instructions for producing 
all Shadow Illusions. 

The Feejee Islanders at Home. An 
Original and unequaled Shadow 
Pantomime. 

A list of Farces, Comedies, etc., 
specially adapted to Parlor Per- 
formances, with the Characters of 
Each Enumerated and Described. 



Howard's Book of Drawing-Room Theatricals. A collection 

of short and amusing plays in one act and one scene, especially adapted for 
private performances ; with practical directions for their preparation and 
management. Some of the plays are adapted for performers of one sex 
only. 

i! 



Contents. 

Explanations of stage direc- 
tions. 
Hints to Amateurs. 

The Student's Frolic 

A Household Fairy 

A Kiss in the Dark 

Mrs. Willis' Will 

Jack of all Trades . . . . 



1 


•3 

i 


s 


& 


3 


2 


1 


1 


2 


3 




5 


6 





Contents. 



His First Brief 

A Sudden Arrival 

A Medical Man 

A Terrible Secret 

Poisoned 

An Eligible Situation 

" Wanted a Young Lady " . . 



Paper Covers. Price 30 etB. 

Bound in boards, with cloth, back , 50 cts. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 



BARTON'S COMIC RECITATIONS 

AND 

HUMOROUS DIALOGUES. 

Containing a variety of Comic Recitations in Prose and Poetry, 
Amusing Dialogues, Burlesque Scenes, Eccentric Orations, 
Humorous Interludes and Laughable Farces. Designed for 
School Commencements and Amateur Theatricals. Edited by 
Jerome Barton. 

CONTENTS. 



The Stage-Struck Hero. A Ranting 

Poetical Recitation. 
Here She Goes— and There She Goes. 
Pastor M'Knock's Address against 

the Sin of Tippling. 
Old Sugar's Courtship. 
The Bachelors Reasons for Taking a 

Wife. A Poetical Recitation. 
The Spanish Valet and the "Waiting 

Maid. Dialogue for 1 male and 1 

female. 
The Jackdaw of Rheims. Recitation. 
Jonathan and the Englishman. 
Artemus Ward's Trip to Europe. 
. Very Humorous Recitation. 
The Auctioneer and the Lawyer. 
Mr. and Mrs. Skinner. 
The Bachelor and the Bride. 
The Drunkard and his Wife. 
A Western Lawyer's Plea against 

the Fact. 
Reading a Tragedy. Declamation. 
Cast-oii Garments. An Extract from 

" Nothing to Wear.* 
How to Cure a Cough. 
The Soldier's Return. Ethiopian 

Dialogue for 2 males. 
The Countrymen and the Ass. An 

excellent Fable. 
Come and Go. Poetical Recitation. 
How they Pop the Question. Reci- 
tation tor Mimicry. 
The Clever Idiot. Poetical. 
The Knights; or. Both Right and 

Both Wrong. An Excellent Fable. 
How the Lawyer goc a Patron Saint. 
Josh Billings on Laughing. 
The HHght after Christmas. 
A Change of System. A Parlor 

Comedy for -2 males and 1 female. 
The Citizen anfl the Thieves. 
Boss's Dogs. A Profitable Trade. 
The Smack in School. 



The Tinker and the Miller's Daughter 
An Original Parody. Recitation. 

The Parsons and the Corkscrew. 
Humorous Recitation. 

The Old Gentleman who Married a 
Young Wife. Dialogue for 1 male 
and I female. 

The Stage-Struck Darkey. Ethiopian 
Interlude for males. 

Goody Grim versus Lapstone. Dia- 
logue for 4 males. 

The Woman of Mind. Recitation. 

Nursery Reminiscences. 

A Martyr to Science : or, Wanted— 
A Confederate. Farce for 4 male*. 

Lodgings for Single Gentlemen. 

The Farmer and the Counsellor. 

The Pugilists. A Striking Tale. 

How Pat Saved his Bacon. Charac- 
teristic Narrative. 

The Irish Drummer. A Story of the 
Lash. 

Mike Hooter's Bear Story. A Dia- 
lect Recitation. 

The Critic. Humorous Recitation. 

Mr. Caudle Wants a Latch-key. 

Humbugging a Tourist. Character 
Dialogue for 3 males. 

The Widow's Victim. Ethiopian In- 
terlude for 2 males and 1 female. 

Josh Billings on the Mule. 

The Tinker and the Glazier. 

Wonderful Dream. Negro Dialogue 
for 2 males. 

An Occasional Address. For a Lady's 
First Appearance. 

An Occasional Prologue. For Open- 
ing a Performance. 

Address on Closing a Performance. 

A Prologue for a Performance by 
Boys. 

An Epilogue for a School Perform- 
ance. 



This is one of the best collection of Humorous Pieces especially adapted te 
the Parlor Stage that has ever been published. 16 me. 180 pages. 

Paper covers. Price 30 Cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back.. .. , ...-50 Cts» 



Dick's Dutch, French and Yankee -Dialect Recitations. 



An unsurpassed Collection of Droll Dutch Blunders, Frenchmen's Funny Mistake8,and 
Ludicrous and Extravagant Yankee Yarns, each Recitation being in its own dialect. 
Der Nighd Pehind Grisd- A Frenchman's Account ol 

mas. 
The Dutchman's Snake. 
Yoppy's Virdcr und Ilees 

DrubblPS. 
Phree Slik^ders. 
Katrira Likes Me Poody 

Veil. 
Hans In a Fix. 
Leedlo Yawcob Strauss. 
How a Dutchman was Done. 
Dot Lambs vot Mary Haf 

Got. 
The Yankee and the Dutch- 
man's Dog. 
Zwei Lager. 
Schneider's Ride. 
The Dutchman and the 

Small-pox. 
Tiamondts on der Prain. 
A Dutchman's Testimony 

in a Steamboat Case. 
Hans Breitmann and the 

Turners. 



DUTCH DIALECT. 
Dor M'lle Shtood on der 
Stoamboad Deck. 

Go V.iy, Becky Miller. 

Dor Drummer. 

Mygel Snyder's Barty. 

Snyder's Nose. 

Dyin' Vords of Isaac. 

Fritz und I. 

Betsey und I Hafe Bust Ub. 

Schneider sec; Leah. 

Dot Funny Leetle Baby. 

Schnitzerl's Philosopede. 

Der Dog und der Lobster. 

Bchlosser'S Ride. 

Mine Katrine. 

Maud Mullcr. 

Ein Deutsches Lied. 

Hans and Fritz. 

Schneider's Tomatoes. 

Deitsche Advertisement. 

Vas Bender Hensbpecked. 

Life, Liberty and Lager. 

Der Goot Lookin' Shnow. 

Mr. Schmidt's Mistake. 

Home A^ain. 

Dot Surprise Party. 

Der Wreck of der Hezbems. 

Isaac Rosenthal on the 

Chinese Question. 
Hans Breitmann's Party. 
Shoo Flies. 

A Dutchman's Answer. 
How Jake Schneider "Went 

Blind. 
I Yash so Glad I Vash Hero. 
The Dutchman and the 

Yankee. 
How the Dutchman Killed 

the Vi'oodchuok. 



FRENCH DIALECT. 
The Frenchman's Dilemma; 

or, Number Five Collect 

Street. 
The Frenchman's Revenge. 
Noozell and the Organ 

Grinder. 
How a Frenchman Enter- 
tained John Bull. 
Mr. Rogers and Monsieur 

Denise. 
The Frenchman and the 

Landlord. 
The Frenchman and the 

Sheep's Trotters. 



the Fall 

IV ant to Fly. 

Tho (ieneiviis Frenchman. 

xiio Frenchman and the 
Flea Powder. 

The Frenchman and the 
Rats. 

Monsieur Tonson. 

Vat You Please. 

The Frenchman and th« 
Mosauitoes. 

The Frenchman's Patent 
Screw. 

Tho Frenchman's Mistake 

Monsieur Mocquard Be- 
tween Two Fires. 



YANKEE DIALECT. 



Mrs. Bean's Courtship. 
Hez and the Landlord. 
Squire Billings' Pickerel. 
Deacon Thrush in Meeting. 
The Yankee Fireside, 
reter Sorghum in Lovs. 
Mrs. Smart Learns how to 

Skate. 
Capt. Hurricane Jones on 

the Miracles. 
The Dutchman and tho 

Yankee. 
The Yankee Landlord. 
The Bewitched Clock. 
The Yankee and the Dutch. 

man's Dog. 
Aunt Hetty on Matrimony. 
The Courti'n'. 
F.benezer on a Bust. 
Sut Lovingood's Shirt. 



This Collection contains all the best dialect pieces that are incidentally scattered 
through alarge number of volumes of " Recitations and Headings," besides new and 

excellent sketches never before published. 170 pages, paper cover ;>0 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 els. 

Dick's Irish Dialect Recitations. A carefully compiled Collec- 
tion of Rare Irish Stories, Comic, Poetical and Prose Recitations, Humorous Letters 
and Funny Reciials,all told with the irresistible Humor of the Irish dialect. Containing 

Paddy's Dream. 



Biddy's Troubles. 

Birth of St. Patrick. The. 

Bridget O'Hoolegoin's Let- 
ter. 

Connor. 

Dormot O'Dowd. 

Dick Macnamara's Matri- 
monial Adventures. 

Dying Confession of Paddy 
M'Cabo. 

Father Mo'loy. 

Father Phil Blake's Collec- 
tion. 

Father Roach. 

Fight of Hell-Kettle, The. 

Handy Andy's Little Mis- 
takes. 

How Dennis Took the 
Pledge. 

How Put Saved his Bacon. 

Irish Astronomy. 



Irish Coquetry. 
Irish Drummer, The. 
Irish Letter, An. N 
Irish Philosopher, The. 
Irish Traveler, Tho. 
Irishman's Panorama, The. 
Jimmy McBride's Letter. 
Jimmy Butler and the Owl. 
King O'Toole and St. Kevin. 
Kitty Malone. 
Love in the Kitchen. 
Micky Free and the Priest. 
Miss Malony on the Chinese 

Question. 
Mr. O'Hoolahan's Mistake. 
Paddy Blake's Echo. 
Paddy Fagan's Pedigree. 
Paddy McGrath and the 

Bear. 
Paddy O'Rafther. 
Paddy tho Piper. 



'at and the Fox. 
Pat and the Gridiron. 
Pat and his Musket. 
Pat and the Oysters. 
Tat's Criticism. 
Pit's Letter. 
Tat O'Flanisan's Colt- 
Patrick O'Rouke and the 

Frogs. 
Paudeen O'RafTerty's Say 

Voyage. 
Peter Mnlrooney and the 

Black Filly. 
PhaidrigCrohoore. 
Ivory O'More'a Present te 

the Priest. 
St. Kevin. 

Teddy O'Toole's Six Bulls. 
\\ r :;ke of Tim O'Hara, The. 
Widow Cummiskey, The. 



This Collection contains, in addition to new and original pieces, all the very best 
Recitations in tho Irish dialect that can be gathered from a whole library of "Recita- 
tion" books. It is f nil of sparkling witticisms and it furnishes also a fund of entertain- 
ing matter for perns? 1 in leisure moments. 170 pages, paper cover 80 cts. 

Bdund in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 



Tambo's End-Men's Minstrel Gags. Containing some of the 

best Jokes and Repartees of tho most celebrated "burnt cork" performers of our 
day. Tiuubo and Hones In all sorts and manner of scrapes. This Book is full of 
Burnt -Cork Drolleries. Funny Stories. Colored Conundrums, Gags and Witty Repar- 
tee, all the newest side-splitting conversations between Tambo, Bones, and tho In- 
terlocutor, and will be found useful alike to the professional and amateur performer. 
Contents ; 



A Bird that can't bo 
Plucked 

Annihilating Time 

At Last 

Bashful 

Bet. Tho 

Bit; Fortune, A 

BlackberryinK 

Black Swan, Tho 

Bones and his little Game t 

Bones and tho Monkey 
Tricks 

Bones as a Fortune Teller 

Bones as a Legitimate Ac- 
tor 

Boi.es as a Filot 

Bones as a Prize Fighter 

Bones as a " Stugent " 

Bones as a Traveler 

Bones as a Victim to the 
Pen 

Bones as avTalkist 

Bones assists at the Per- 
formance of a Now Piece 

Bones attends a Seance 

Bones finds' Himself Fa- 
mous 

Bones gets Dunned 

Bones gets Stuck 

Bones has a Small Game 
with the Parson 

Bones' Horse Kaco 

Bones in an Affair of Honor 

Bones In Love 

Bones keeps a Boarding 
House 

Bones on tho "War Path 

Bones on George Washing- 
ton 

Bones on the Light Fantas- 
tic 



Bones Opens a Spout Shop 

Bones Plays O' Fella 

Bones sees a Ghost 

Bones Slopes with Sukey 
Sly 

Bones tells a " Fly " Story- 
Brother will come homo to- 
night 

Bones as a Carpet Bagger 

Bones as an Inkslingor 

Bones in a New Character 

Bones in Clover 

Bones' Love Scrape 

" Cullud " Ball, The 

Conundrums 

Curious Boy 

Dancing Mad 

Dat's WhatJ'd Like to 
Know 

Definitions 

De Mudder of Inwention 

Difference, The 

Don't Kiss every Puppy 

" Far Away in Alabani' " 

First White Man, Tho 

Fishy Argument 

Four-Eleven-Forty-Four 

Four Meetings, The 

From the Polks 

Girl at the Sewing Ma- 
chine 

Hard Times 

Hard to take a Hint 

Heavy Spell, A 

Highfalutln' 

Horrible ! 

now Bones became a Min- 
strel 

How Tambo took his Bit- 
ters 

How to do it 



Everything new and rich. Paper covers 
Bound in boards, with cloth back 



Impulslvo Oration 

Inquisitive 

Jeallusest of her Sect 

Legal Problem, A 

Liberal Discount for Cash 

Manager in a Fix, The 

Mathematics 

Merry Lifo, A 

Momentous Question 

Mosquitoes 

Music 

Notes 

Ob Course 

Our Shop Girls 

Pomp and Ephy Green 

Presidency on de Brain 

Proposed Increase of Taxes 

Railroad Catastrophe 

Keality versus Romance 

Rough on Tambo 

Sassy Ram and Susio Long 

School's In 

Shakespeare with a Yen- 

geanco 
Simple Sum In Arithmetic 
Sleighing in the Park 
Sliding Down tho Hill 
Style 
Sublime 

Swearing by Proxy 
Tambo's Traveling Agent 
That Dear Old Home 
"Tho Pervislons, Joslar " 
Thieves 
Tonsorial 
Toast, A 

Uncle Eph's Lament 
Waiting to See Him Off 
You Bet 
And 40 popular songs and 

dances. 



80ct». 
SOcts. 



McBride's Comic Speeches and Recitations. Designed for 

Schools, Literary and Social Circles- By H. Elliott McBride, Author of "McBride's 
Humorous Dialogues," etc., etc. This is one of the very best series of original 
speeches, in Yankee, Darkey, Spread-Eagle and village styles, with a number of 
diverting addresses and recitations, and funny stories, forming an excellent volume 
of selections for supplying the humorous element of an exhibition. Contents. 



A Burst of Indignation 
Disco'so by a Colored Man 
A Trumpet Sarmon 
Sarmon on Skilletvillers 
Nancy Matilda Jones 
Jlezekiah's Proposal 
About the Billikinses 
Betsy and I are Out Once 

More 
A Stump Speech 
About Katharine 
Deborah Doolittle's Speech 

on Women's Rights 
A Salutatory 
A Mournful Story 



An Address to Schoolboys 

Zachariah Popp's Court- 
ship and Marriage 

A Sad Story 

How to Make Hasty Pud- 
ding 

My Matilda Jane 

Courtship, Marriage, Sep- 
aration and Reunion 

Lecture by a Yankee 

A Colored Man's Disco'se 
on Different Subjects 

A Girl's Address to Boys 

McSwinger's Fate 



Peter Peabody's Stump 
Speech 

Mr. Styx Rejoices on Ac- 
count of a Now Well 
Spring 

Victuals and Drink 

Speech by Billy Higgins on 
the Destruction of His 
Rambo Apple Tree 

A Boy's Address to Young 
Ladies 

An Old Man's Address to 
Young Wives 

Salu-ta-tat-u-a-ry 

Valedictory. 



Paper covers, Illuminated SOcts. 

Board covers, illumiriated 60ctt. 



jEeecher's Recitations and Headings. Humorous, Serious, 

Dramatic. Designed for Public and Private Exhibitions. Contents : 



Miss Maloney at the Den- 
tist's 
Lost and Found 
Mygel Snyder's Barty 
Magdalena 

Jim Wolfe and the Cats 
The Woolen Doll 
The Charity Dinner 
Go- Morrow ; or, Lots Wife 
The Wind and tho Moon 
Dyin' Words of Isaac 
Maude Mullcrin Dutch 
Moses the Sassy 
Yarn of the "Nancy Bell" 
Paddy the Piper 
Schneider sees "Leah " 
Caldwell of Springfield 
Artemus Ward's Panorama 
Tale of a Servant Girl 
How a Frenchman Enter- 
tained John Bull 
Tiamondts on der Prain 
King Kobert of Sicily 
Gloverson the Mormon 
DePint wid Ole Pete 
Pat and the Pig 
The Widow Bedott's Letter 
Paper covers. Price 
Bound in boards, cloth back 



The Cry of the Children 

The Dutchman and the 
Small-pox 

Scnlpin 

Bats— Descriptive Recita- 
tion 

A Reader Introduces Him- 
self to an Audience 

A Dutchman's Dolly Var- 
den 

" Rock of Ages " 

Feeding the Black Fillies 

The Hornet 

The Glove and the Lions 

I Vant to Fly 

That Dog of Jim Smiley's 

The Faithful Soul 

"My New Pittayatees" 

Mary Ann's Wedding 

An Inquiring Yankee 

The Three Bells 

Love in a Balloon 

Mrs. Brown on the Streets 

Shoo Flies 

Discourso by the Bev. Mr. 
Bosan 

Without the Children 



Signor Billsmethl's Danc- 
ing Academy 

Der Goot Lookin Shnow 

The Jumping Frog 

The Lost Chord 

The Tale of a Leg 

That West-side Bog 

How Dennis Took the 
Pledge 

The Fisherman's Summons 

Badger's Debut as Hamlet 

Hezefciah Stole tho Spoons 

Paddy's Dream 

Victuals and Drink 

How Jake Schneider Went 
Blind 

Amelia's Young Man 

Mrs. Brown on Modern 
Houses 

Farm Yard Song 

Murphy's Pork Barrel 

The Prayer Seeker 

An Extraordinary Phe- 
nomenon 

The Case of Young Bangs 

A Mule Bide in Florida 

Dhree Shkaders 



3 Octs. 
SOets. 



Dick's Ethiopian Scenes, Variety Sketches and Stump 

Speeches. Containing the following Rich Collection of Negro Dialogues, Scenes, 
Farces , End-Men's Jokes. Gags, Rollicking Stories, Excruciating Conundrums, Ques- 
tions and Answers for Bones, Tambo and Interlocutor, etc. Contents: 



I's Gwine to Jine do Ma- 
sons 

Jes' Nail dat Mink to do 
Stable Do'— Oration 

But the Villain still Pur- 
sued Her— A Thrilling 
Tale 

Bonos at a Free-and-Easy 

Buncombe Speech 

Shakespeare Improved 

End Gag — Bones and Tam- 
bo 

A Man of Nerve— Comic 



End Gag— Bones and Tam- 
bo 
Uncle Pete— Darkey Sketch 
The Rival Darkeys 
The Stage-Struck Darkey 
Add Ryman's Fourth of 

July Oration 
Absent-Mindedness — Bones 

and Tambo 
Don't Call a Man a Liar 
The Mysterious Darkey 
Rev Uncle Jim's Sermon 
The 'Possum-Bun Debating 

Society 
Tim Murphy's Irish Stew 
Brudder Bones in Love- 
Interlocutor and Bones 
'Lixey ; or, The Old Gum 

Gam;-— Negro Scene 
Bru elder Bones' Duel 
Brudder Bones' Sweetheart 
Brudder Bones in Hard 

Luck 
Two Left-Bones and Tambo 



Speech on Boils 

How Bones Cured a Smoky 

Chimney 
Sermon on Keards, Hosses, 

Fiddlers, etc. 
Huggin' Lamp-Posts 
Not Opposed to Matrimony 
How Pat Sold a Dutchman 
The Coopers — one Act Farco 
Questions Easily Answered 

—Bones and Tambo 
Examination in Natural 
History— Minstrel Dia- 
logue 
O'Quirk's Sinecure 
The Widower's Speech 
Bones at a Raffle 
Uncle Pete's Sermon 
Bones at a Soiree— Interlo- 
cutor and Bones 
Speech on Woman's Rights 
Bones' Discovery 
Mark Twain Introduces 
Himself— Characteristic 
Speech 
Speech on Happiness 
Burnt Corkers— Minstrel 

Dialogue 
The Nervous Woman 
The Five Senses— Minstrel 

Dialogue 
The Dutchman's Experi- 
ence 
Essay on the Wheelbarrow 
Bones at a Pic-Nic 
The Virginia Mummy — 
Negro Farce 



Brudder Bones in Clover 

Artemus AVard's Advice to 
Husbands 

Wnere the Lion Roareth, 
and the .Wang-Doodle 
Monrneth 

Romeo and Juliet in 1880 

Artemus Ward's Panorama 

Brudder Bones as a Carpet- 
Bagger — Interlocutor and 
Bones 

Major Jones' Fourth of July 
Oration 

Curiosities for a Museum — 
Minstrel Dialogue 

Burlesque Oration on Mat- 
rimony 

Brudder Bones on the Bag- 
ing Canawl 

The Snackin'-Turtle Man — 
Ethiopian Sketch 

Bones' Dream— Ethiopian 
Sketch 

Come and Hug Me 

Widow O'Brien'* Toast 

Scenes at the Poiice Court 
—Musical Minstrel Dia- 
logue 

Brudder Bones as a Log- 
Roller 

De Pint Wid Old Pete- 
Negro Dialect Recitation 

A Touching Appeal— Dutch 
Dialect Recitation 

Wounded in the Corners 

Darkey Dialogue 

End Gag— Interlocutor and 



Bones 

178 pages, paper covers SOets. 

Bound in board, cloth back ........ ■ frOcts. 



Kavanaugh's New Speeches and Dialogues for Young 

Children. Containing easy pieces in plain language, readily understood 
by little children, and expressly adapted lor School Exhibitions and Christ- 
inas and other juvenile celebrations. By Mrs. Russell Kavanaugh. This 
is an entirely new series of Recitations and Dialogues by this author, and 
full of pieces, in her well-known style of familiar simplicity, admirably 
calculated to give the little ones additional opportunities to distinguish 
themselves before an audience. It contains the following: 



Introduction 

Opening Speech 

Speech for a School Exhibition 

The Parcae (The Fates) 

Which Would You .Rather Be ? 

Speech for a Tiny Girl 

An Old Story, for a Child. . . 

Speech for a Boy 

A Sudden Revulsion 

Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus. A 

Novel Christmas Festival. . 
May Celebration 

Speech of Crowner 

Speech of Sceptre-Bearer. . . 

Speech of Fun 

Speech of Frolic 

Speech of Vanity 

Speech of Modesty 

Speech of Beauty 

Speech of Jollity 

Speech of Boot-Black 

Speech of News-Boy 

Speech of May Queen. 

The Tables Turned, for a Child 

Speech for a Boy 

Speech for a Small Boy 

Speech for a Very Little Boy . . 
The Farmer Boy and the City 

Dude 

The Small Boy 

Transposed 

The Sun and His Satellites 

Speech of the Sun 

Speech of the Moon 

Speech of Mercury 

Speech of Mars 

Speech of Jupiter 

Speech of Saturn 

Speech of Venus 

True Happiness 

Genius and Application 

Five Versus Twenty-five 

Saved from Suicide 

Speech for a Very Small Child 

Three Enigmas 

Tickle his Hand with a Ten 

Dollar Bill 

Speech for a Small Boy 

Beautiful Belles, for several 

Girls 

Beautiful Dudes, for several 

Boys 



Four Little Rose Buds 

A Bouquet 

Ta! Ta! 

Speech for a Very Little Girl 
Speech for a Very Little Boy. 

Blood Will Tell 

A Warning 

A Race for Life 

" He is a Brick " , 

Speech for a Small Boy 

Watching 

Gold 

A Touching Incident 

Buy a Broom, for several Girls 
Confusion Worse Confounded 
A Relentless Tyrant, lor a Child 

My Brotr sr Jean 

The Gratitude of the World 

At the Skating Rink 

Dimes! Oh, Dimes ! 

A Fatal Bait, for a Child... 
The Decorated Donkey, for a 

Child 

Tight Times 

The Reason Why 

A Modern Flirtation 

Country Meeting Talk 

Speech 

Deeds of Kindness 

The Boy's Complaint 

What Not to Do 

Temperance Address 

The Quarrelsome Boy 

An Awful Fly, for a Little One 

Content 

The Winds of the Prairie . . 
Santa Claus' Christmas Tree 

Speech 

The Creator 

Where Did They Go 

The Parting Lovers 

Do Your Best.... 

Cherish Kindly Feelings... 

Advice to Boys 

I Wish I Was a Grown-up . 
No Time Like the Present. 

The Boys We Need 

Summer Vacation 

MUSIC. 

Three Bright Stars 

Beautiful Belles 

Buy a Broom 



16mo., Dlluminated Paper Cover 30 cts. Boards 50 Cta. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 

HOWARD'S RECITATIONS. 

Comic, Sericus and Pathetic. Being a carefully selected collec* 
tion of fresh Recitations in Prose and Poetry, suitable for An« 
niveraaries, Exhibitions, Social Gatherings, and Evening Par- 
ties; affording, also, an abundance of excellent material fox 
practice and declamation. Edited by Clarence J. Howard. 

CONTENTS. 



Jliss Malony on the Chinese Ques- 
tion. 

Kit Carson's Ride. A fine descrip- 
tive poetical recitation. 

Buck Fanshaw's Funeral. 

Knocked About. Monologue. 

The Puzzled Dutchman. Dialect 

Sliamus O'Brien. Popular recitation 

The Naughty Little Girl. Humorous. 

The Bells' of Shandon. Serious poem. 

No Sect in Heaven. A dream. 

Rory O'More's Present to the Priest. 

" Mother's Fool." A Recitation. 

Queen Elizabeth. A comic oration. 

The Starling. A recitation. 

Lord Dundreary's Riddle. 

The Stuttering Lass. Amusing re- 
cital. 

The Irish Traveler. Humorous piece. 

The Remedy as Bad as the Disease. 

A Subject for Dissection. 

The Heathen Chinee. 

Mona's "Waters. Pathetic recitation. 

A Showman on the Woodchuck. 

How Happy I'll Be. Moral recitation. 

A Frenchman's Account of the Fall. 

Isabel's Grave. Pathetic recitation. 

The Parson and the Spaniel. 

An Irishman's Letter. 

An Affectionate Letter. Irish style. 

The Halibut in Love. 

The Merry Soap-Boiler. 

The Unbeliever. A solemn recitation 

The Voices at the Throne. 

Lord Dundreary Proposing. A very 
comic recitation. 

The Fireman. Descriptive piece. 

Paul Revere' s Ride. 

Annie and Willie's Prayer. Pathetic 

A Frenchman on Macbeth. 

The New Church Or2:an. 

Katriua Likes Me Pocdy Veil. Hu 
morous Ditty in Dutch dialect. 

How to Save a Thousand Pounds. 

How I Got Invited to Dinner. 

Patient Joe. A serious recitation. 

Jimmy Butler and the Owl. 



The Menagerie. A wild beast shoir. 

Old Quizzle. 

The Infidel and Quaker. Recitation. 

The Lawyer and the Chimney- 
sweeper. 

Bill Mason's Bride. A railroad yarn. 

Judging by Appearances. 

The Death's Head ; or, Honesty th« 
best Policy. 

Betsey and I are Out. 

Betsey Destroys the Paper. 

Father Blake's'Collection. 

Blank Verse in Rhyme. 

Roguery Taught by Confession. 

Banty Tim. 

Antony and Cleopatra. 

Deacon Hezekiah. Description of a 
Sanctimonious Hypocrite. 

The Frenchman and the Landlord. 

The Family Quarrel. A dialogue on 
the Sixteenth Amendment. 

The Guess. Old English Recitation. 

The Atheist and Acorn. 

Brother "Watkins. Farewell of a 
Southern Minister. 

Hans in a Fix. A Dutchm an's dream 
of Matrimony. 

To-Morrow. Poetical recitation. 

The Highgate Butcher. 

The Lucky Call. The Lost Spectacle* 

Challenging the Foreman. 

The Country Schoolmaster. 

The Matrimonial Bugs and the Trav- 
elers. 

Peter Sorghum in Love. Tank©* 
story. 

Tim Tuff. A sharp bargain. 

The Romance of Nick Van Stann- 

The Debating Society. Recitation. 

Deacon Stokes. 

A Tribute to our Honored Dead. 

The Dying Soldier. Pathetic poetry. 

The Yankee Fireside. Yankee 
sketches of character. 

The Suicidal Cat. An affecting tale, 

The Son's "Wish. A dying father's 
bequest. 

\6mo. 180 pages. Paper covers. Price 30 cts, 

pound in boards, cloth back. ..., < ....50 Ct» 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 



MAR/TINE'S DROLL DIALOGUES 



LAUGHABLE 
By Arthur Martiue, author of 



RECITATIONS. 



Martine's Letter-Writer," etc., 
etc. A collection of Humorous Dialogues, Comic Recitations, 
Brilliant Burlesque, Spirited Stump Speeches and Ludicrous 
Farces, adapted for School and other Celebrations and for Home 
Amusement 

CONTENTS. 



Hints to Amateur Performers in Par- 
lor Theatricals. 

Explanation of Stage Directions, 
with Diagram. 

Prelude to an Evening's Kecitations. 
Humorous Poetical Address. 

The Bell and the Gong. Original 
Humorous Eecitatiou. 

Mrs. Dove's Boarding House. Origi- 
nal Amusing Recitation. 

The Wilkins Family. A Eecitation 
full of Puns and Jokes. 

The Lawyer's Stratagem. How he 
tricked the Squire. 

Eulogy on Laughing. A well-known 
popular Eecitation. 

Drawing a Long Bow. Dramatic 
Dialogue for 3 males and 1 female. 

Woman. The Origin of "Woman's 
Ascendency over Man. 

Yeny Eaynbr's Bear Story. A 
thrilling characteristic narration. 

The Game of Life. The Moral Ap- 
plication of a game at Euchre. 

The Fortune Hunter. Laughable 
Dialogue for 2 males and 3 females. 

The Parson and the Widow. A 
short, Poetical Recitation. 

Hezekiah Stubbins' Fourth of July 
Oration. A Yankee Stump Speech. 

Make your Wills. Ludicrous Farce 
for 7* male characters. 

Mr. Rogers and Monsieur Denise. A 
celebrated Comic Recitation. 

The Darkey Debating Society. Ethi- 
opian Dialogue for 2 males. 

The Scandal Monger. Dramatic 
Dialogue for 2 males and 2 females. 

Poor Richard's Sayings. With An- 
notations by Lord Dundreary. 

Prologue to "The Apprentice?' 

Address in the character of " Hope." 
A Prologue for an Entertainment. 

Parodv on the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence. 



Bombastes Furioso. A Burlesque 

for 7 males. 
Characteristic Address. The wail 

of a Printer's Devil. 
Examining de Bumps. Ethiopian 

Dialogue for 2 males. 
Election Stump Speech. Addressed 

to the Electors of AVethersfield. 
A Matrimonial Tiff. Characteristic 

Dialogue for 1 male and 2 females. 
The Frenchman and the Sheep's 

Trotters. Comic Recitation. 
The Poor Relation; or, Love Me, 

Love my Dog. Comic Drama for 

7 males." 
Yat you Please. Experiences of two 

Frenchmen in England. 
The Babes in the Wood. Burlesque 

for 3 males and 4 females. 
My Aunt. Poetical Recitation. 
Handy Andy's Little Mistakes. 

Laughable Irish Story. 
The Cat Eater. Comic Recitation. 
A Shocking Mistake. Dialogue for 

3 males and 2 females. 
Wanted a Governess. A satirically 

comic Recitation. 
The Rival Broom Makers. Comic 

Recitation. 
Paudeen O'Raffertv's Say-Yoyage. 

Laughable Irish Recitation. 
Mr. Caudle's Wedding Dinner. A 

Curtain Lecture. 
Our Cousins. Negro Dialogue for 2 

male characters. 
Mr. Caudle has been made a Mason. 

Curtain Lecture. 
Address of Sergeant Buzfuz at the 

Trial of Pickwick. 
The Wonderful Whalers. A very 

surprising narrative. 
Sam Wellers Valentine. Character 

Dialogue for 2 males. 
Job Trotter's Secret. Amusing Dia- 
logue, for 3 males. 



188 pages. Paper covers. Price 30 ets. 

Bound in boards, cloth back , 50 Ct& 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
WILSON'S BOOK OF RECITATIONS 



DIALOGUES. 

With instructions in Elocution and Declamation. Containing a 
choice selection of Poetical and Prose Recitations. Designed 
as an Assistant to Teachers and Students in preparing Exhibi- 
tions. By Floyd B. Wilson, Professor of Elocution. 
CONTEXTS. 



Cxstruction ra Elocution and Dec- 
lamation. 

Dedication of Gettysburg Cemetery. 

Sheridan's Ride. 

There's but one Pair of Stockings. 

Modulation. 

The Drummer Boy's Burial. 

John Mavnard, the Pilot. 

The Boys. 

The Duel. 

Lochiel's Warning. 

Socrates Snooks. 

Mosaic Poetry. 

Burial of the Champion of his Class 
at Yale College. 

Scott and the Veteran. 

Barbara Frietchie. 

I Wouldn't— "Would Tou ? 

The Professor Puzzled. 

Thanatopsis. 

The Two Roads. 

The Pawnbroker's Shop. 

The Sophomore's Soliloquy. 

The Nation's Hymn. 

Address to a Skeleton. 

A Glass of Cold Water. 

Little Gretchen ; or. New Tear's Eve. 

Good News from Ghent. 

The Sea Captain's Story. 

Our Heroes. 

The Closing Tear. 

Burial of Little NelL 

The Picket Guard. 

The Poor Man and th.3 Fiend. 

Our Country's Call. 

The Conquered Banner. 

The High Tide; or, The Brides of 
Enderby: 

Death of Gaudentis. 

Don Garzia. 

Past Meridian. 

The Founding of Gettysburg Monu 
ment. 

Spartacus to the Gladiators. 

Soliloquy of the Dying Alchemist. 

The Country Justice. 

Unjust National Acquisition. 

Paper covers. Prioe 

JBound in boards, cloth back 



Dimes and Dollars. 

The Dead Drummer Boy. 

Home. 

Responsibility of American Citizens. , 

The Jester's Sermon. 

Left on the Battle Field. 

The American Flag. 

Oh! Why should the Spirit of Mortal 
be Proud ? 

Parrhasius. 

The Vagabonds. 

A Bridal Wine Cup. 

Blanche of Devan's Last Words. 

Widow Bedott to Elder Sniitles. 

A Psalm of the Union. 

Charge of a Dutch Magistrate. 

Stars in my Country's bty. 

Bingen on the Rhine. 

Religious Character of President Lin- 
coln. 

The Raven. 

The Loyal Legion. 

Agnes and the Tears. 

Cataline's Defiance. 

Our Folks. 

The Beautiful Snow. 

The Ambitious Touth. 

The Flag of Washington. 

The Abbot of Waltham. 

Ode to an Infant Son. 

The Scholar's Mission. 

Claude Melnotte's Apology. 

The Forging of the Anchor. 

The Wreck of the Hesperus. 

The Man of Ross. 

No Work the Hardest Work. 

What is Time ? 

Brutus' s Oration over the Bod> oi 
Lucretia. 

What is That, Mother ? 

A Colloquy with Myself. 

St. Philip Neri and the Touth. 

The Chameleon. 

Henry the Fourth's Soliloquy en 
Sleep. 

On Procrastination. 

Appendix. 



•30 cts. 
.50 cts. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
BRUDDEB BONES' BOOK OF STUMP SPEECHES 



BURLESQUE ORATIONS. 

Also containing Humorous Lectures, Ethiopian Dialogues, Plan- 
tation Scenes, Negro Farces aud Burlesques, Laughable inter- 
ludes and Comic Recitations. Compiled aud edited by John F. 
Scott. 

CONTENTS. 



If I may so Speak. Burlesque Ora- 
tion. 

Dr. Pillsbury's Lecture on Politics. 

Vegetable Poetry. Dialogue for 2 
males. 

Teco Brag's Lecture on Astronomy. 

"We saw Her but a Moment. 

Stocks Up, Stocks Down. Darkey 
dialogue for 2 males. 

Brudder Bones' Love Scrapes. 

Stump Speech; or, "Any other Man." 

War's your Hoss. Dialogue Recital. 

Geology. Dialogue for 2 males. 

Tin-pan-o-ui-on. Pantomime for 
Leader and Orchestra. 

Dr. Puff Stuffs Lecture on Patent 
Medicines. 

Sailing. Dialogue for 2 males. 

Challenge Dance. Ethiopian Act for 
3 males. 

Lecture on Bad Boys. An amusing 
Recitation. 

Tony Pastor's Great Union Speech. 

A Tough Boarding House. Conver- 
sation between 2 Darkevs. 

Sleeping Child. Dialogue for 2 males. 

Ain't I Right, Eh ? Speech. 

"Wonderful Egg. Darkey Dialogue 
for 2 males. 

A Bootblack's Soliloquy. Darkey. 

Lecture to a Fire Company. 

Julius' Peaches. Dialogue for 2 Dar- 
keys. 

De Trouble Begins at Nine. 

The Arkansas Traveler. Dialogue 
for 2 Violin players. 

Slap Jack. Dialogue for 2 Darkeys. 

Demi-Semi-Centennial Turkey-town 
Celebration. An Oration. 

Uncle Steve's Stump Speech. 

A Midnight Murder. Thrilling. 

Dat's What's de Matter. 

The Freezing Bed Feller. Recitation. 

Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins. 

Paddv Fagan's Pedigree. 

The Rival Darkevs. Act for 2 males. 



Josh Billings on Mosquitoes. 

Romantic History of Cap. John Smith. 

A Speech on Women. Humorous. 

An Impulsive Peroration. 

The Bet. Dialogue for 2 Darkeys. 

Old Times gone By. Dialogue with 
songs for 2 Darkeys. 

The Echo. Act for 2 Negroes. 

Sol Slocum's Bugle. Dialect. 

Western StnmpSpeech. Highfalutin'. 

In the Show Business. Short Dia- 
logue for 2 males. 

" We are." Favorite Stump Oration. 

An Original Burlesque Oration. 

Waiting to see Him off. For 2 males. 

Patriotic Stump Speech. 

Dc Railroad Accident. Dialogue for 
2 Darkeys. 

The Dutchman's Lecture on the War. 

Professor Unworth's Atlantic Cable 
Lecture. 

The Three old Ladies. Recitation. 

Josh Billings' Lecture onto Musiok. 

The Misfortunes of Brudder Bones' 
Lady-Love. Dialogue for 2 males. 

Deaf— In a Horn. Act for 2 males. 

Or any oder Man's Dog. A Speech. 

Happy Uncle Tom. Plantation Scene. 

Stick "a Pin dere, Brudder Horace. 

Burlesque Lecture on Woman's 
Rights. 

Dat's wot de "Ledsrer" says. Dia- 
logue for two Darkeys. 

Goose Hollow Stump Speech. 

De Milk in de Cocoa Nut. 

A Dutchman's Answer. 

Lecture on Cats. Humorous. 

The Patent Screw; or, How to be Re- 
venged. 

The Auctioneer. Characteristic. 

Hints on Courtship. To Young Men. 

A Dutch Recruiting Officer. 

Spirit Rappings. Roaring Darkey 
Dialogue for 2 males. 

Dar's de Money. From "Othello." 

Let Her Rip. Burlesque Lecture. 

The Stranger. Ethiopian Scene for 
1 male and 1 female. 



Hans Sourcrout on Signs and Omens. 
Hun-ki-do-ris Fourth of July Oration. 

16 mo. 188 pages. Paper covers. Price 80 cts. 

Bound in boards, illuminated 50 cts. 



Popular Books sent Free of postage at the Prices annexed. 
Tambo's End-Men's Minstrel Gags. Containing some of the 

best jokes and repartees of the most celebrated " burnt cork " performers 
of our day. Tanibo and Bones in all sorts and manner of scrapes. Alsa 
containing a rich collection of Ballads, humorous and pathetic, Darkey 
Dialogues, Sketches, Plantation Scenes, Eccentric Doings, Humorous 
Lectures, Laughable Interludes, Huge Africanisms, Burlesque Stump 
Speeches, Mirth-provoking Witticisms, Conundrums, Yarns, Plantation 
Songs and Dances, etc., etc. Lu short, a complete Hand-Book of Burnt 
Cork Drollery, which will be found alike useful to the professional an 1 

amateur. Everything new and rich. Paper covers SO Ct3 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 CIS 

Tony Benier's Parlor Tableaux, or Living Pictures. Con 

taining about eighty popular subjects, with plain and explicit directions 
for arranging the stage, dressing-rooms, lights, full description ot cos- 
tumes, duties of stage manager, properties and scenery required, and all 
the necessary directions for getting them up. Among tne contents there 
are nine tableaux for male and an equal number for female characters 
only. A great number of them introduce groups of boys, and many mora 
groups of girls only; others again introducing both; and still mors in 
which entire classes can take part. Everything is stated in a plain, simple 
manner, so that it will be easily understood; everything like style or un> 
necessary show has been avoided. For public or private entertainment, 
there is nothing which is so interesting as the tableau. Price 25 Ct3 

Tony Denier's Secret of Performing Shadow Pantcnr'mes. 

Showing how to get them up and how to act in them; with full and con- 

cise instructions wnd numerous illustrations. Also iull and complete 

descriptions of properties and costumes. 

CONTENTS. 

Lntroduction: Shadow Bluff, or, j lar Hash, or, The Boarding-Eouse 
Who's Who? Tooth Drawing Extra- j Conspiracy; The Mechanical Statue; 
ordinarv; Amputation like Winking; i The African Serenaders ; The Model 
The Haunted House; We Won't Go Prize Fight: The Magic Cask, or, The 
Home till Morning; Jocko, or the j Industrious and Idle Apprentice; 
Mischievous Monkey; The Madcap ; The Tragical Duel, or, The Comical 
Barber; Cribbage. or. The Devil Rivals; Old Dame Trot and her 
among the Cards; The Lover's Strat- j Comical Cat. 
agem; The Game of Base Ball; Regu- | Price 25 CtS 

Brndder Bones' Book of Stump Speeches and Burlesque 

Orations. Also containing Humorous Lectures, Dialogues, Plantation 
Scenes, Negro Farces and Burlesques, Laughable Interludes and Comic 
Recitations, interspersed with Dutch, Irish, French and Yankee Stories. 
Compiled and edited by John F. Rcott. 
This book contains some of the best hits of the leading negro delineators of 
the present time, as well as mirth-provoking jokes and repartees of tho 
most celebrated End-Men of the day, and specially designed for the in- 
troduction of fun in an evening's entertainment. Price SO cts. 

Bound in boards 50 Ct3. 

Burton's Amateur Actor. A complete guide to Private Theat- 
ricals ; giving plain directions for arranging, decorating and lighting the 
Stage; with rules and suggestions for mounting, rehearsing and per- 
forming all kinds of Flays.Parlor Pantomimes and Shadow Pantomimes. 
Illustrated with numerous engravings, and incltiding a selection of 
original Plays, with Prologues, Epilogues, etc. 16mo, illuminated paper 

cover SO cts. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 CtS. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 

READINGS AND RECITATIONS. 

Kavanaugh's New Speeches and Dialogues for Young 

Children. This is an entirely new series of Recitations and nhort Dia- 
logues, by Mrs. Russell Kavanaugh. Containing easy pieces in plain lan- 
§oage, readily undei-stood by little children, and expressly adapted lor 
chool Exhibitions and Christmas and other juvenile celebrations. Paper 

cover 30 CtS. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 CtS. 

Kavanaugh's Exhibition Reciter, for Very Little Children. 

A collection of entirely Original Recitations, Dialogues, Short Speeches 
and Speaking Tableaux, adapted for very little boys and girls ; includ- 
ing also a variety of pieces, humorous, serious and dramatic, suitable lor 

children from Three to Ten Years Old. Paper covers 30 CtS, 

Bound in board covers 50 CtS. 

Kavanaugh's Juvenile Speaker. For Very Little Boys and 

and Girls. Containing shorthand easily-learned Speeches and Dialogues, 
expressly adapted for School Celebrations, May -Day Festivals and other 
Children's Entertainments. Embracing one hundred and twenty-three 
effective pieces. By Mrs. RusseU Kavanaugh. Illuminated paper 

cover 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 CtS. 

Dick's Series of Recitations and Readings, Nos. 1 to 15. 

Comprising a carefully compiled selection of Humorous, Pathetic, Elo- 
quent, Patriotic and Sentimental Pieces in Poetry and Prose, exclusively 
designed for Recitation or Reading. Edited by Wm. B. Dick. Each num- 
ber of the Series contains about 180 pages. Illuminated paper cover, 

each 30 CtS. 

Bound in full cloth -.50 CtS. 

Beecher's Recitations and Readings. Humorous, Serious, 

Dramatic, including Prose and Poetical Selections in Dutch, Yankee, Irish, 

Negro and other Dialects. 180 pages, paper covers 30 CtS. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 CtS. 

Howard's Recitations. Comic, Serious and Pathetic. Being 
a collection of fresh Recitations in Prose and Poetry, suitable for Exhibi- 
tions and Evening Parties. 180 pages, pape* covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 

Spencer's Book of Comic Speeches and Humorous Recita- 
tions. A collection of Comic Speeches, Humorous Prose and Poetical 
Recitations, Laughable Dramatic Scenes and Eccentric Dialect Stories. 

192 pages, paper covers 30 Cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Ctfr 

Wilson's Book of Recitations and Dialogues. Containing a 

choice selection of Poetical and Prose Recitations. Designed as an Assist- 
ant to Teachers and Students in preparing Exhibitions. 

188 pages, paper covers 30 Cts. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts. 

Barton's Comic Recitations and Humorous Dialogues. A 

variety of Comic Recitations in Prose and Poetry, Eccentric Orations 

and Laughable Interludes. 180 pages, paper covers 30 CtS. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 Cts, 

Martine's Droll Dialogues and Laughable Recitations. A 

collection of Humorous Dialogues, Comic Recitations, Brilliant Burlesques 

and Spiri tea Stump Speeches. 188 pages, paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts. 

*** CATALOGUES SENT FKEE. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 

DIALOGUE BOOKS. 

Graham's School Dialogues for Young People. Being a 

new and original collection of Dialogues intended for Anniversaries and 
Exhibitions, carefully prepared and well calculated to develop dramatic 

talent. 176 pages, illuminated paper cover SO CtS. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 

McBride's New Dialogues. Especially designed for School 
and Literary Amateur Entertainments ; containing twenty-four entirely 
New and Original Dialogues, introducing Irish, Yankee, and other eccentric 
characters. By H. Elliott McBride. 178 pages, illuminated paper 

cover SO cts* 

Bound in boards 50 CtS, 

McBride's Temperance Dialogues. Designed for the nse of 

Schools, Temperance Societies, Bands of Hope, Divisions, Lodges and 
Literary Circles. Introducing Yankee, Dutch, Irish, Negro and other 
dialect characters. By H. Elliott McBride. 183 pages, paper cover SO CtS. 
Bound in boards, cloth back -. 50 CtS. 

McBride's Humorous Dialogues. A collection of New Dia- 
logues, full of humor and witty repartee ; some of them introducing 
Irish, Dutch, Yankee and other dialect characters. 192 pages, paper 

cover 30 cts- 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 CtS. 

McBride's Comic Dialogues. A collection of twenty-three 

Original Humorous Dialogues, especially designed for the display of 
Amateur dramatic talent, and introducing a variety of sentimental, 
sprightly, comic and genuine Yankee characters, and other ingeniously 
developed eccentricities. By H. Elliott McBride. ISO pages, illuminated 

paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 ctS. 

McBride's All Kinds of Dialogues. A collection of twenty- 
five Original, Humorous and Domestic Dialogues, introducing Yankee, 
Irish, Dutch and other characters. Excellently adapted for Amateur 

Performances. 180 pages, illuminated paper covers 30 CtS. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 CtS- 

Holmes' Very Little Dialogues for Very Little Folks. Con- 
taining forty-seven New and Original Dialogues, with short and easy 
parts, almost entirely in words of one syllable, suited to the capacity and 

comprehension of very young children. Paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 CtS. 

Frost's Dialogues for Young Folks. A collection of thirty- 
six Original, Moral and Humorous"Dialogues. Adapted for boys and girls 

between the ages of ten and fourteen years. Paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 ctS. 

Frost's New Book of Dialogues. Containg twenty-nine en- 
tirely New and Original Humorous Dialogues for boys and girls between 

the ages of twelve and fifteen years. 180 pages, paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts' 

Frost's Humorous and Exhibition Dialogues. This is a col- 
lection of twenty-five Sprightly Original Dialogues in Proband Verse, in- 
tended to be spoken at School Exhibitions. 178 pages, papei covers 30 cts. 
Bound in boards 50 cts' 

*** CATALOGUES SENT FREE. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 

AMATEUR THEATRICALS. 

All the plays in the following excellent books are especially designed 
for Amateur performance. The majority of them are in one act 
and one scene, and may be represented in any moderate-sized par- 
lor, without much preparation of costume or scenery. 

Havanagh's Humorous Dramas for School Exhibitions and 

Private Theatricals. This collection of Dramas are all original, and 
were written expressly for School and Parlor performance. Paper 

covers 30 CtS 

Bound in boards 50 ct3 

Barmby's Musical Plays for Young People. Suitable for 

Privaie"Tlieatricals. These Plays are in _-urlesque style and entirely in 
Rhyme ; they are irresistably Comical in expression, and elegant in con- 
struction. Each Play includes the Vocal Score and Piano Accompaniment 
to all Songs, Duets and Choruses introduced, making it complete in it- 
self, both in text and music. 2C1 pages, paper covers 30 CtS 

Bound in boards 5 CtS 

Parlor Theatricals; or, Winter Evenings' Entertainment. 

Containing Acting Proverbs, Dramatic Charades, Drawing-Room Panto- 
mimes, a Musical Burlesque and an amusing Farce, with instructions for 

Amateurs. Illustrated with engravings. Paper covers 30 CtS 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 Ct8 

Howard's Book of Drawing-Room Theatricals. A collec- 
tion of twelve short and amusing plays. Some of the plays are adapted 

for performers of one sex only. 186 pages, paper covers 30 CtS 

Bound in boards, with cloth back -.50 ctS 

Hudson's Private Theatricals. A collection of fourteen hu- 
morous plays. Four of these plays are adapted for performance by males 

only, and three are for females. 180 pages, paper covers 30 Cts 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 CtS 

Nup;ent's Burlesque and Musical Acting Charades. Con- 
taining ten Charades, all in different styles, two of which are easy and 
effective Comic Parlor Operas, with Music and Piano-forte Accompani- 
ments. 176 Pages, paper covers £0 Ct3 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 Ctd 

Frost's Dramatic Proverbs and Charades. Containing eleven 

Proverbs and fifteen Charades, some of which are for Dramatic Per- 
formance, and others arranged for Tableaux Vivants. 176 pages, paper 

covers 30 CtS 

Bound in boards, with cloth backs 50 cts 

Frost's Parlor Acting Charades. These twelve excellent and 
original Charades are arranged as short parlor Comedies and Farces, full of 
brilliant repartee and amusing situations. 182 pages, paper covers.. 3C Ct3 
Illuminated boards 50 Cts 

Frost's Book of Tableaux and Shadow Pantomimes. A col- 
lection of Tableaux Vivants and Shadow Pantomimes, with stage instruc- 
tions for Costuming, Grouping, etc. 180 pages, paper covers 30 Ct3 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts 

Frost's Amateur Theatricals. A collection of eight original 

plays ; all short, amusing anil new. ISO pages, par^e? cover*. ...... 30 eta 

Bound in boards, with cloth back ,.,... .... ea . «-.«-£0 «tg 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed 



Dick's Original Album Verses and Acrostics, 

Containing Original Yeisea 



For Autograph Albums; 
To Accompany Bouquets; 
For BirViday Anniversaries; 
For Wooden, Tin, Crystal, Silver and 
Golden Weddings; 



For Album Dedications; 
To Accompany Philoptna Forfeits; 
For Congratulation; 
For Valentines in General, and a& 
Trades and Professions. 

It contains also Two Hundred and Eighteen Original Acrostic Verses, th« 
initial letters of each verse forming a different Lady's Christian name, 
the meaning and derivation of the name being appended to each. Th« 
primary object of this book is to furnish entirely fresh and unhackneyed 
matter for all who may be called upon to fill and adorn a page in a Lady's 
Album; but it contains also new and appropriate verses to suit Birthday, 
Wedding, and all other Anniversaries and Occasions to whiGh verses of Com' 
pliment or Congratulation are applicable. Paper covers. Price. . 50 cts. 
Bound in full cloth..... " ..75 ct& 

The Debater, Chairman's Assistant, and 

Holes of Order. A mannal for Instruction and Reference* in- 
all matters pertaining to the Management of Public Meetings 
according to Parliamentary usages. It comprises : 



Bow to Form and Conduct all kinds of 
Associations and Clubs; 

Bow to Organize and Arrange PuMic 
Meetings, Celebrations, Dinners, Pic- 
nics and Conventions; 

Forms for Constitutions of Lyceums or 
Institutes, Literary and other Societies; 

The Powers and Duties of Officers, with 
Forms for Treasurers', Secretaries', 
and other Official Reports; 

The Formation and Duties of Commit- 
tees; 



Rules of Order, and Order of Business, 
with Mode of Procedure in all Casts. 

Bow to draft Resolutions and other 
Written Business; 

A Model Debate, introducing the greatest 
possible variety of points of order, with 
correct Decisions by the Chairman; 

The Rules of Order, in Tabular Form, 
for instant reference in all Cases of 
Doubt that may arise.enabling a Chair* 
man to decide on all points at a 
glance. 



The Work is divided into different Sections, for the purpose of Consecutive 
Instruction as well as Ready Reference, and includes all Decisions and 

Rulings up to the present day. Paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 eta. 

Dick's Ethiopian Scenes, Variety Sketches 

and Stump Speeches. Containing End-Men's Jokes, 

JTegro Interludes and Farces; Dialect SketcJtes and Eccentricities; 

Fresh Dialogues for Interlocutor and Dialogues and Repartee for Interlocutor 

Banjo; and Bones; 

New Stump Speeches; Quaint Burlesque Sermons; 

Bumorous Lectures; Jokes, Quips and Gags. 

It includes a number of Amusing Scenes and Negro Acts, and is 
full of the side-splitting vagaries of the best Minstrel Troupes 
in existence, besides a number of Original Eecitations and 
Sketches in the Negro Dialect. 178 pages, paper covers. . 30 cts. 
Bound in boards, cloth back. ............. . . . . . .50 cts* 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
Dick's Dutch, French and Yankee Dialect Recitations. An 

unsurpassed Collection of Droll Dutch Blunders, Frenchmen's Funny 
Mistakes, and Ludicrous and Extravagant Yankee Yarns, each Recitation 
being in Its own peculiar dialect. To those who make Dialect Recitations 
a speciality, this Collection will be of particular service, as it contains all 
the best pieces that are iucidently scattered through a large number of vol- 
umes of "Recitations and Readings," besides several new and excellent 
sketches never before published. 

170 pages, paper cover 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 

Dick's Irish Dialect Recitations. A carefully compiled 

Collection of Rare Irish Stories, Comic, Poetical and Prose Recitations, 
Humorous Letters and Funny Recitals, all told with the irresistible Humor 
of the Irish Dialect. This Collection contains, in addition to new and orig- 
inal pieces, all the very best Recitations in the Irish Dialect that can be 
gathered from a whole library of "Recitation" books. 
It is full of the sparkling witticisms and queer conceits of the wittiest 
nation on earth, and apart from its special object, it furnishes a fund of 
the most entertaining matter for perusal in leisure moments. 

170 pages, paper cover 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 CtS. 

Worcester's Letter-Writer and Book of Business Forms for 

Ladies and Gentlemen. Containing Accurate Directions for Conducting 
Epistolary Correspondence, with 270 Specimen Letters, adapted to every 
Age and Situation in Life, and to Business Pursuits in General ; with an 
Appendix comprising Forms for Wills, Petitions, Bills, Receipts, Drafts, 
Bills of Exchange, Promissory Notes, Executors' and Administrators' 
Accounts, etc., etc. The Orthography of the entire work is based on 
Worcester's method, which is coming more and more into general use. 
This work is divided into two parts, the portion applicable to Ladies being 
kept distinct from the rest of the book, in order to provide better facilities 
for ready reference. 
21G pages. Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Cts. 

Dick's Hand-Book of Cribbage. Containing full directions 
for playing all the Varieties of the Game, and the Laws which govern 
them. This work is entirely new, and gives the correct method of play- 
ing the Six -Card, Five-Card, Two-Handed, Three-Handed, and Four-Handed 
Varieties of the Game, with instructive examples, showing clearly all the 
combinations of Hand, Crib, and Play, with a thorough investigation of 
long sequences in play, and the value of Hands. The Laws of the game 
have been carefully revised in accordance with the recognized usages of 
the present time, and constitute a reliable authority on all points of the 
Game. 18 mo. Cloth, Flexible • 50 Cts. 

Dick's Art Of Gymnastics. Containing practical and pro- 
gressive exercises applicable to all the principal apparatus of a well-ap- 
pointed Gymnasium. Profusely illustrated. This work conveys plain and 
thorough instruction in the exercises and evolutions taught by the leading 
Professors of Gymnastics ; eo that proficiency may be attained, even 
without the aid of a Teacher. It also offers to Teachers a ready-arranged 
systematic course for their guidance. 
Artistically bound in cloth, 4to $1 00 

Dick's Dialogues and Monologues. Containing entirely or- 
iginal Dialogues, Monologues, Farces, etc., etc., expressly designed for 
parlor performance, full of humor and telling "situations," and requiring 
the least possible preparation of Costumes and Scenery to make them 
thoroughly effective. 

180 pages. 16 mo , paper cover , 30 Cts, 

Bound in boards, cloth back 60 cts. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
J)r. Valentine's Comic Lectures ; or, Morsels of Mirth for 

the Melancholy. A certain cure for the " blues " and all other serious 
complaints. Containing Comic Lectures on Heads, Faces, Noses and 
Mouths ; Comic Lectures on Animal Magnetism ; Humorous Specimens 
©f Stump Eloquence ; Burlesque Specimens of Eloquence ; Transactions 
of Learned Societies ; Comical Delineation of Eccentric Characters ; 
Amusing Colloquies and Monologues ; Laughable Duologues and Charac- 
teristic Drolleries. Hlustrated with twelve portraits of Dr. Valentine in 
his most celebrated characters. 192 pages. Paper cover. Price . . 30 ctsj 

Mrs. Partington's Carpet-Bag of Fun. Containing the Queei> 

Sayings of Mrs. Partington, and the Funny Doings of her remarkable Son 
Isaac. Also the most amusing collection extant of Playful Puns, Phunny 
Poems, Pleasing Prose, Popular Parodies, and Political Pasquinades ; 
Rhymes Without Reason and Reason Without Rhymes, Anecdotes, Conun- 
drums, Anagrams, and, in fact, all other kinds of Grams. Illustrated 
with 100 most amusing engravings, prepared expressly for this work from 
designs by the most eminent Comic Artists. Ornamented paper 
cover 30 CtS. 

'the Comical Doings of a Funny Man. Being the Scrapes 

and Adventures of a Practical Joker. Hlustrated with Laughable Engra- 
vings. Octavo. Price 10 cts. 

Chips from Uncle Sam's Jack-Knife. Hlustrated with over 

100 Comical Engravings, and comprising a collection of over 500 Laugha- 
ble Stories, Funny Adventures, Comic Poetry, Queer Conundrums, Ter- 
rific Puns and Sentimental Sentences. Large octavo 25 Cts. 

Fox's Ethiopian Comicalities. Containing Strange Sayings, 

Eccentric Doings, Burlesque Speeches, Laughable Drolleries and Funny 
Stories, as recited by the celebrated Ethiopian Comedian 10 eta. 

Ned Turner's Circus Joke Book. A collection of the best Jokes, 

Eon Mots, Repartees, Gems of Wit and Funny Sayings and Doings of the 
celebrated Equestrian Clown and Ethiopian Comedian, Ned Turner . 10 cts. 

Ned Turner's Black Jokes. A. collection of Funny Stories, 

Jokes and Conundrums, interspersed with Witty Sayings and Humorous 
Dialogues, as given by Ned Turner, the celebrated Ethiopian Delin- 
eator 10 cts. 

Ned Turner's Clown Joke Book. Containing the best Jokes 

and Gems of Wit, composed and delivered by the favorite Equestrian 
Clown, Ned Turner. Selected and arranged by G. E. G 10 Cts. 

Charley "White's Joke Book. Containing a full expose" of all 

the most Laughable Jokes, Witticisms, etc., as told by the celebrated 
Ethiopian C omedian, Charles White 10 cts. 

Black Wit and Darky Conversations. By Charles White. 

Containing z large collection of laughable Anecdotes, Jokes, Stories, Wit- 
ticisms and Darky Conversations 10 cts. 

Yale College Scrapesj or, How the Boys Go it at New 

Haven. This is a book of!14 pages, containing accounts of all the fa- 
mous " Scrapes " and " Sprees " of which Students of Old Yale hava been 
guilty for the last t^uarte^- of a century , ^S5 CtS. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 

^ . « 

How to Conduct a Debate. A Series of Complete Debates, 

Outlines of Debates and Questions for Discussion. In the complote de- 
bates, the qneBtlons for discussion are defined, the debate formally opened, 
an array of brilliant arguments adduced on either Bide, and the debate 
closed according to parliamentary usages. The second part consists of 
questions for debate, with heads of arguments, for and against, given in 
a condensed form, for the spoakers to enlarge upon to suit their own 
fancy. In addition to these are a large collection of debatable questions. 
The authorities to be referred to for information being given at the close 
of every debate throughout the work. By F. Rowton. 232 pages. 

Paper covers 50 cts 

t Bound in boards, cloth back 75 eta 

The Amateur Trapper and Trap-Maker's Guide. A com- 
plete and carefully prepared treatise on the art of Trapping, Snaring and 
Netting. This comprehensive work is embellished with fifty engraved il- 
lustrations ; and these, together with the clear explanations which accom- 
pany them, will enable anybody of moderate comprehension to make and 
set any of the traps described. It also gives the baits usually employed 
by the most successful Hunters and Trappers, and exposes their secret 
methods of attracting and catching animals, birds, etc., with scarcely a 

possibility of failure. Large 16mo, paper covers 50 cts 

Bound in boards, cloth back 75 eta 

How to "Write a Composition. -The use of this excellent hand- 

book will save the student the many hours of labor too often wasted in 
trying to write a plain composition. It affords a perfect skeleton of one 
hundred and seventeen different subjects, with their headings or divi- 
sions clearly defined, and each heading filled in with the ideas which the 
subject suggests ; so that all the writer has to do, in order to produce 
good composition, is to enlarge on them to suit his taste and inclination. 

178 pages, paper covers 30 Ct3 

Bound in boards, eloth back 50 CtS 

.Duncan's Masonic Ritual and Monitor; or, Guide to the 

Three Symbolic Degrees of Hie Ancient York Rite, Entered Apprentice, Fellow 
Craft and Master Mason. And to the Degrees of Mark Master, Past Master, 
Most Excellent Master, and the Royal Arch. By Malcom C. Duncan. Ex- 
plained and Interpreted by copious Notes and numerous Engravings. 
This is a valuable book for the Fraternity, containing, as it does, the 
Modern " Work" of the order. No Mason should be without it. 

Bound in cloth $2 50 

Leather tucks (pocket-book style), with gilt edges 3 00 

The Laws Of Athletics. How to Preserve and Improve 
Health, Strength, and Beauty ; and to Correct Personal Defects caused by 
Want of Physical Exercise. How to Train for Walking, Punning, Row- 
ing, etc., with the Systems of the Champion Athletes of the World. In- 
cluding the Latest Laws of all Athletic Games and How to Play Them. 

By William Wood, Professor of Gymnastics. Paper cover 25 cts. 

Flexible cloth cover 50 ct3. 

The Bartender's Guide ; or, How to Mix all Kinds of Fancy 

Drinks. Containing clear and reliable directions for mixing all the 
beverages used in the United States. Embracing Punches, Juleps, Cob- 
blers. Cocktails, etc., etc., in endless variety. By Jerry Thomas. 

Illuminated paper covers 50 cts 

Bound in full cloth 75 cts 

Spayth's Draughts or Checkers for Beginners. This treat- 
ise was written by Henry Spayth, the celebrated player, and is by far 
the most complete and instructive elementary work on Draughts ever pub- 
lished. Cloth, gilt side, , ....,.,.•,>...,., ,,,,., 7> cti 



Popular Boo^is sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
DicVs Society Letter Writer for Ladies. Containing 

MORE THA.tf FIVE HUN^riED entirely Original Letters and Notes, 
with .appropriate answers, on all subjects and occasions incident to life in 
Gjo.I Society ; incla ling specific instructions in all the details of a well- 
written letter, and General Hints for Conducting Polite Correspondence. 
Edited by Win. B. Dick. 

The Contents embrace the following Subjects: 

Notes Soliciting Donations 

N;les an I Lett rs Granting or 



Refusng Donations 
Letters if C .ngratulalion 
Letters of Condol nee 
Answers to Letters of Con-lolence 
Hnuseho d Letters and N< tes 
Forms of Household Orders 
Answers to Household LeWrs 
Business Letters and Notes 
Shopping by Mail 
Forms of Orders 
Miscellaneous Business Letters 
Fimily Letters 
Miscellaneous Notes and Letters 



Hints on Le'ter Writing 

Letters of Introduction 

A nswers to Letters of Introduction 

L'tters and Notes of Invitation 

Forms of Cards 

Notes of Postponement 

Letters and Notes Accepting and 
Declining Invitations 

Letters of Apohgy 

Letters of Announcement 

Notes and Letters Accompanying Gifts 

Notes and Letters of Acknowledgment 

Notes and Letters Soliciting Favors 

Note* an I L Iters Offering Favors 

Notes and Letters Granting or Declin- 
ing Favors 

These new and Original Letters have been written expressly for this work 
m an easy and elegant style, furnishing excellent models which fulfill all 
the social, formal and business conditions that occur in the Correspon- 
dence of Ladies who move in refined society. There are many otherwise 
highly accomplished ladies who experience considerable difficulty in indit- 
ing a good letter, and frequently find themselves embarrassed from a want 
of facility in method of expression and proper form; to them this work 
is especially adapted, and will afford them valuable aid in rendering the 
task of coi'respondence easy and light. 12m o., Cloth, Price $1.25 

Dick's Mysteries of the Hand ; or, Palmistry made Easy. 

Translated, Abridged and Arranged from the French Works of Desbarrolles, 
D'Arpentigny and De Para d'Hermes. This book is a concise summary of 
the elaborate works of the above-named authorities on Palmistry. 

The various lines and mounts on the palm of the hand, and the typical 
formation of the hand and fingers are all clearly explained and illustrated 
by diagrams. The meaning to be deduced from the greater or less develop- 
ment of these mounts and lines (each of which has its own signification), 
also from the length, thickness and shape of the thumb and fingers, and 
from the mutual bearing they exercise on each other, is all distinctly 
explained. 

Complete facility for instant reference is insured by means of marginal notes 
by which any point of detail may be found and consulted at a glance. 

By means of this book the hitherto occult mystery of Palmistry is made 
simple and easy, and the whole Art may be acquired without difficulty or 
delay. It is emphatically Palmistry in a nutshell, and by its use, char- 
acter and disposition can be discerned and probable future destiny fore- 
told with surprising accuracy. Illuminated paper cover 5*0 CtS» 

TDick's Hand-Book Of Whist. Containing Pole's and Clay's 
Rules for playing the modern scientific game; the Club Failes of Whist, 
and two interesting Double Dummy Problems. This is a thorough treatise 
on the game of Whist, taken from " The American Hoyle " which is the 
standard authority. It covers all the points and intricacies which arise in 
the game; including the acknowledged code of etiquette observed by the 
players, with Drayson's remarks on Trumps, their use and abuse, and all 
the modern methods of signalling between partners. Price 25 Cts. 



Popular Books sent Freo of Postage at tho Prices annexed. 



The Amateur Printer ; or, Type-Setting at Home. A thorough 

and oomplete instructor for the amateur in is>ll tho ftetaila of tho Printer's 
Art, giving practical iufonuatiou iu regard to type, ink, pap< r und 
implements requisite, with illustrated directions for using them in a 
proper manner. It tenches now to set type in the stick, transfer tho 
matter to the galley and make it up informs; also how to take proofs 
and. correct them, showing all the signs used bj practical proof-readers 
in correcting proofs; it illustrates the plan id' tue type-case showing tho 
relative positions of the compartments allotted to the typo Of each letter, 
etc., and the correct manner of replacing or distributing type in thecaso! 
The practical instructions given in this work are complete' and so plainly 
described that any amateur can become a good printer by studying and 
applying tho information it contains. Paper covers. Price <&q cts. 

Talk of Uncle George to his Nephew About Draw Poker. 

Containing valuable suggestions in connection with this Great American 
Game; also instructions and directions to Clubs and Social Card Parties, 
whose members play only for recreation and pastime, with timely warn- 
ings to young .players. Illustrated. In which Uncle George narrates to 
his nephew the experience he has gathered in the course of his travels 
West and East ; showing him, in a chatty and familiar style, the devices, 
tricks, appliances, and advantages by winch gentlemanly gamblers fleece 
the unsophisticated and unwary in the popular game of Draw Poker, and 
offering him plain and fatherly advice as to the best means for frustrating 
their efforts and avoiding their traps. Every one who takes a hand at 
"Draw "will be a gainer by perusing what Uncle George says about it, 
and become a wiser as well as a richer man. Quarto. Paper. Price.. 25 cts. 

Proctor On Draw-Poker. A Critical Dissertation on " Poker 
Principles and Chance Laws." By Prof. RrciiARD A. Proctor. An in- 
teresting Treatise on the Laws and Usages which govern the Game of 
Draw-Poker, with Practical Remarks upon the Chances and Probabilities 
of the Game, and a Critical uialvsis 01 the Theories and Statistics ad- 
vanced by BTackbridge and other writers on the subject, and especially in 
regard to their doctrines relating to cumulative recurrences. Small 
quarto 15 Cts. 

Lander's Revised Work of Odd-Fellowship. Containing all 

the Lectures, complete, with Regulations for Opening, Conducting, and 
Closing a Lodge ; together with Forms of Initiation, Charges of the 
Various Officers, etc., with the Complete work in the following Decrees: 
Initiation ; Eirst. or Pink Degree ; Second, or Royal Blue Degree ; Third, 
or Scarlet Degree. By Edwin E. Lander. This hand-book of the Revised 
Work of the Independent Order of Odd-Fellowship has been pi-epared in 
conformity with the amendments and alterations adopted by the Sover- 
eign Grand Lodge of Canada in September, 1880. 16mo, paper cover, £5 cts. 

The Jolly Joker ; or, a Laugh all Round. An Immense Col. 

lection of the Funniest Jokes, Drollest Anecdotes and most Side-Splitting 
Oddities in existence, profusely illustrated from beginning to end, in the 
most mirth-provoking style. The illustrations alone are sufficient for a 
constant and long-sustained series of good, square laughs for all time. 
12mo, 114 pages, illustrated cover 25 Cts. 

Some Comicalities. A Whole Volume of Jolly Jokes, Quaint 
Anecdotes. Funny Stories, Brilliant "Witticisms, and Crushing Coram- 
drums, with as many droll illustrations to the page — and every page at 
that— as can be crowded into it. 144 pages. Illustrated cover 25 cts. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the ibices annexed. 



McBride's New Dialogues. Especially designed for School 
and Literary Amateur Entertainments ; containing entirely New and Origi- 
nal Dialogues, introducing Irish, Yankee, and other eccentric characters. 
By II . Elliott McBkide. 

Contents. 



A Happy Woman. 

The Somnambulist. 

Those Thompsons. 

Playing School. 

Tom and Sally. 

Assisting Hezekiah. 

A Visit to Vie Oil Regions. 

Breaking up the Fxhibiticn. 

Turning Around. 

A Lute hoy's Debate. 

The Silver Lining. 

Restraining Jotham. 

A Shoemaker's Troubles. 



An Uncomfortable Predicament. 

The Opening Speech. 

The Cucumber Hill Debating Club. 

Married by the Neio Justice. 

Bread on the Waters. 

An Unsuccessful Advance. 

When Women Have Their Rights. 

Only Another Footprint. 

Rosabella's Loveis. 

A Smart Boy. 

A Heavy Shower. 

Master of the Situation. 



The marked favor with which the four preceding volumes have been re- 
ceived suggested the necessity for an increased variety of new eccentric 
and characteristic pieces, to form an addition to the repertoire con- 
tained in " McBride's Comic Dialogues," " McBride's All Kinds of Dia. 
logues," " McBride's Humorous Dialogues," and " McBride's Temperance 
Dialogues." They are all written with a view to develop dramatic talent, 
and abound in quaint humor, Dialect Drolleries, and telling stage " situa- 
tions." lCmo, 178 pages, illuminated paper cover 30 cts. 

Bound in boards 50 Cts. 

Dick's Book of Toasts, Speeches and Responses. Contain- 
ing Toasts and Sentiments for Public and Social Occasions, and specimen 
Speeches with appropriate replies suitable for the following occasions : 



Public Dinners, 
Social Dinners, 

Convivial Gatherings, 
Art and Professional Banquets, 
Manufacturers' Meetings, 
Agricultural and Commercial Festivals, 
Special Toasts for Ladies, 
Ch ristmas, Thanksgiving and other Fes- 
tivals, 



Friendly Meetings, 

Weddings and their Anniversaries, 

Army and Navy Banquets, 

Patriotic and Political Occasions, 

Trades' Unions and Dinners. 

Benedicts' and Bachelors' Banquets, 

Masonic Ce'ebrations, 

Sporting Coteries, 

A II Kinds of Occasions. 



This work includes an instructive dissertation on the Art of making amusing 
After-dinner Speeches, giving hints and directions by the aid of which 
persons with only ordinary intelligence can make an entertaining and 
telling speech. Also, Correct Rules and Advice for Presiding at Table. 

The use of this work will render a poor and diffident speaker fluent and 
witty— and a good speaker better and wittier, besides affording an im- 
mense fund of anecdotes, wit and wisdom, and other serviceable matter 
to draw upon at will. Paper covers. Price 30 cts. 

How Bogglns Was Cured. An intensely ludicrous sketch, 
pictorially expressed; showing how Mr. Boggins, who bad been reduced 
to a despairingly crippled state by rheumatism and a complication of 
other causes, was induced to submit to the wonderful effects of a course of 
dynamo-electro magnetic therapeutics, tracing the magical and potent 
effects of the treatment, and the heroic efforts he made while submitting to 
the doctor's system of pathology ; until, crowned with complete success, 
he is able to throw aside his crutches and is restored to perfect health 
and pristine agility. An entirely new and original series of sketches. 
Funny ! is no name for it. Small quarto. Illustrated 10 Cts. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. ; 



Dick's Games of Patience ; or Solitaire with Cards. New and 

]\o\ iaed Edition. Containing Sixty-four Games. Illustrated with Fifty ex- 
planatory full-page .Tableaux. This treatise on Solitaire, a pastime which ia 
steadily gaining in popularity, embraces a number of new and original 
Games, and all the Games of Patience at present in favor with the moat 
experienced players, This comprehensive work contains tho following 



Games : 
A uld Lang Syne. 
Tarn O'Shanter. 

The Four Seasons. 

Simplicity. 

The Gathering of the 

Clans. 
Napoleon at St. Helena. 
The Calculation. 
The Surprise Party. 
The Four Kings. 
The Clock. 
The Garden. 
The Queen's Audience. 
The Phalanx. 
The Idle Year. 
The Chameleon. 
La Belle Lucie. 
The Shamrocks. 
The House in the Wood. 
The House, on the Hill. 
The Grand Duchess. 
The Constitution. 



The Beleaguered Castle. 

The Citadel. 

The Exiled Kings. 

Penelope's Web. 

Napoleon's Square. 

The Court Yard. 

The Windmill. 

Leoni's Own. 

La Nivernaise. 

The Four Corners. 

The Baker's Dozen. 

The Salic Law. 

The Sultan of Turkey. 

The Fortress. 

The Hemispheres. 

The Elevens. 

The Chester Game. 

The Shah of Persia. 

The Empress of India. 

The Zodiac. 

The Blockade. 

The Besieged City. 

Each game is carefully and lucidly described, with the distinctive rules to be 
observed and hints as to the best means of success in play. The Tableaux 
furnish efficient aid in rendering the disposition of the cards necessary to 
each game plain and easily comprehensible. The difficulty usually attend- 
ing description's of intricate games is reduced, as far as possible, by pre- 
cision in method and terseness of expression in the text, and the illus- 
trations serve to dispel any possible ambiguity that might be unavoidable 
without their aid. The work is attractive in style and elegant in execution, 
and will prove an interesting companion for many a solitary hour. Quarto. 

143 pages. Board cover 75 cts. 

Cloth $1 00. 

Dick's Parlor Exhibitions, and How to Make them Suc- 
cessful. Containing complete and detailed directions for preparing and 
arranging Parlor Exhibitions and Amateur Performances. It includes : 



The Four teens. 
Napoleon's havnrite. 
The Fifteen Puzzle. 
The Contra-Dance. 
The Betrothal. 
The Reinforcements. 
The Reserve. 
The Frog. 
The Pyramid. 
The Quadrille. 
The Chatelaine. 
The. Order of Precedence. 
The Congiess. 
Thirteen Down. 
The Octagon. 
Light and Shade. 
St. Louis. ■ 
Rouge et Noir. 
The Blondes and Bru- 
nettes. 
The Royal Cotillion. 
Nestor. 



Tableaux Vivants. 
Living Portraits. 
Living Statuary. 
Dame History's Peep Show. 
Shadow Pantomimes. 



Popular Ballads illustrated, by appro- 
priate action. 
Charades of all kinds. 
Parlor Pantomimes. 
Punch and Judy. 



AND FIFTY OTHER DIVERTING PARLOR PASTIMES AND AMUSEMENTS. 

It contains also a full Catalogue of the celebrated "Art Exhibition," and a 
practical treatise on the wonderful Science of Second-Sight, by iho aid 
of which all the startling effects and achievements of second-sight may bo 
performed by any one possessing a tolerable retentive memory. 

This work is thoroughly practical and gives the fullest instructions for pre- 
paring and lighting the stage, the construction of the Frames for Living 
Portraits, and shows how each performance can be presented with com- 
plete success. It is illustrated with numerous engravings explaining the 

text. 150 pages, paper cover 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Cts* 



Popular Books sent Free or Postage at the Prices annexed. 
Barber's American Book of Ready-Made Speeches. Con. 

talnin^ 15!) original examples of Humorous and Serious Speeches, suitable 
for every possible occasion where a speech may be called for, together with 
appropriate replies to each. Including- 



Off-Hand Speeches on a Variety »J 
Subjects. 

Miscellaneous Speeches. 

Toasts and Sentiments for Publu and 
Private Entertainments. 

Preambles and licsolutions of Con- 
gratulation, Compliment and Con- 
dolence. 



Presentation Speeches. 

Convivial Speeches. 

Festival Speeches. 

Addresses of Congratulation. 
uses of Welcome. 

Addresses of Compliment 

Political Speeches. 

Dinner and Supper Speeches for Clubs, 
etc. 

With this book any person may prepare himself to make a neat little speech, 
or reply to one when called upon to do so. They are all short, appropriate 
and witty, and even ready speakers may profit by them. Paper. .. .50 CtS. 
Bound in boards, cloth back 75 CtS. 

Day's American Ready-Reckoner. By B. H. Day. This 

Eeady-lieckoner is composed of Original Tables, which are positively cor- 
rect, having been revised in the most careful manner. It is a book of 192 
pages, aud embraces more matter than 500 pases of any other Reckoner. Ill 
contains: Tables for Rapid Calculations of Agsrresrate Values. Wa^es, Sal- 
aries, Board. Interest Money, etc.; Tables of Timber and Plank Measure- 
ment ; Tables of Board and Log Measurement, and a great variety of Tables 
and useful calculations which it would be impossible to enumerate in an adver- 
tisement of this limited space. All the information in this valuable book is 
given in a simple manner, and is made so plain, that any person can use it 
At once without any previous study or loss of time. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 CtS. 

Bound in cloth, gilt back 75 CtS» 

The Art and Etiquette of Making Love. A Manual of Love, 

Courtship aud Matrimony. It tells 



How to cure bashfulness, 

How to commence a courtship, 

How to please a sweetheart or lover, 

How to write a love-letter, 

How to "pop the question,'" 

Hoio to act before and after aproposat, 

How to accept or reject a proposal, 



How to break off an engagement, 
How to act after an engagement, 
How to act as bridesmaid or grooms- 
man. 
How the etiquette of a wedding and ths 
after reception should be observed, 



And, in fact, how to fulfill every duty and meet every contingency con- 
nected with courtship and matrimony. 176 pages. Paper covers 30 CtS. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 

frank Converse's Complete Banjo Instructor Without a 

' Master. Containing a choice collection of Banjo Solos p .ijd Hornpipes, Walk 
Arounds, Reels and Jigs, Songs and Banjo Stories, progressively arranged 
and plainly explained, enabling the learner to become a proficient banj'oist 
without the aid of a teacher. The necessary explanations accompany each 
tune, and are placed under the notes on each page, plainly showing the 
string required, the finger to be used for stopping it the manner of striking, 
and the number of times it must be sounded. The Instructor is illustrated 
with diagrams and explanatory symbols. 100 pages. Bound in boards, 
cloth back 50 ct& 

JIard Words Made Easy. Rules for Pronunciation and Accent ; 
with instructions how to pronounce French, Italian, German, Spanish, and 
other foreign names ,„ ., ]# cts. 



1 opular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices.annexed. 
Rarey & Knowlson's Complete Horse Tamer and Farrier 

A New ami Improved Edition, containing: Mr. Rarey's Whole Secret of 
Gtabduing and Breaking Vicious Horses ; JiJs Improved "Plan of Mana^-ine 
Young Colts, and Breaking them to the Saddle, to Harness and the Sulky 
Kules lor Seleotiug a Good Horse, and for Feeding Horses. Also the Cora- 
pete Farrier or Howe Doctor; being the result of fifty years' extensive 
practice of the author, Johu C. Kuowlson, during his life an English Farrier 
pi high popularity ; containing the latest discoveries in the cure of Spavi< 11- 
lustrated with descriptive engravings. Bound in boards, cloth back. 50 eta. ., 

How to Amuse an EveDing Party. A Complete collection oi 

Home Recreations. Profusely Illustrated with over Two Hundred fine 
Wood-cuts, containing Round Games and Forfeit Games, Parlor Matric and 
Curious Puzzles, Comic Diversions and Parlor Tricks, Scientific Recreations 
and Evening Amusements. A young man with this volume may render lriin- 
self the beau ideal oi a delightful companion at everv party and win the 
hearts of all the ladies, by his powers of entertainment. Bound in orna- 
mental paper covers qq ct _ 

Bound in boards, with cloth back ........!..... '. . . 50 ct& 

Frost's Laws and By-Laws of American Society. A Com- 
plete Treatise on Etiquette. Containing plain and Reliable Directions for 
Deportment in every Situation in Life, by S. A. Frost, author of "Frost's 
Letter- Writer," etc. This is a book of ready reference on the usages of So- 
ciety at all times and on all occasions, and also a reliable guide in the details 

of deportment and polite behavior. Paper covers 30 ets. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back. 50 cla, 

Frost's Original Letter- Writer. A complete collection of Orig- 
inal Letters and Notes, npon every imagiiiable subject of Every-Day Lira, 
with plain directions about everything connected with writing abetter. By 
S. A. Frost. To which is added a eermpreliepffiT* Table of Synonyms, alone 
worth double the price asked for the book. We assure ear reftdera that it is 
the best collection of letters ever published in this country; they are written 
in plain and natural language, and elegant in style without being high-flown. 
Bound in boards, cloth back, with illuminated sides 50 Cts. 

North's Book of Love-Letters. With directions how to write 

and when to use them, and 120 Specimen Letters, suitable for Lovers of any 
age and condition, and under all circuni stances. Interspersed with the au- 
thor's comments tliereon. The whole forming a convenient Hand-book of 
valuable information and counsel for the nse of those who need friendly 
guidance and advice in matters of Love, Courtship and Marriage. By In- 

goldsby North. Bound in boards 50 Cts. 

Bound' in cloth 75 Cts. 

How to Shine in Society; or, The Science of Conversation. 

Containing the principles, laws and general usages of polite society, includ- 
ing easily applied hints and directions for commencing and sustaining an 
agreeable conversation, and for choosing topics appropriate to the time, 
place and company, thus affording immense assistance to the bashful and 
diflident. 16mo. Paper covers < 25 Cts. 

The Poet's Companion. -A Dictionary of all Allowable Ehymes 

in the English Language. This gives the Perfect, the Imperfect and Allow- 
able Rhymes, and will enable you to ascertain to a certainty whether any 
word can be mated. It is invaluable to any one who desires to court the 

Muses, and is used by some of the best writers in the country 25 ct3. 

Mind Your Stops. Punctuation made plain, and Composition 
simplified for Readers, Writers and Talkers 12 cts. 

Five Hundred French Phrases. A book giving all the French 

v«rds and mayi'mR in general use in writing the English language. . . 12 etfr 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 



Steele's Exhibition Dialogues. A Collection of Dramatic 

Dialogues and easy Plays, excellently adapted for Amateurs in Parlor 
and Exhibition Performances ; with Hints and instructions relative to 
management, arrangements and other details necessary to render them 
successful. By Silas S. Steele. 

CONTENTS. 



The Stage-Struck Clerk. For 6 Males 

and 3 Femalrs. 
The Tailor of Tipperary. For 7 Males 

and 4 Females. 
Opera Mad. For 7 Males and 1 Fe- 
male. 
The Painter's Studio. Portrait Sketch. 

For 2 Males. 
The Well of Death. For 2 males. 
Blanche ofDevan. For 3 Males and 1 

Female. 
The Youth Who Never Saw a Woman. 

For 3 Males and 1 FemaU. 
The Masked Ball. For 3 Males and 2 

Females. 

Paper covers. Price 

Bound in boards, cloth back 



The Hypochondriac. For 4 Males and 1 

Female. 
Two Families in One Room. For 4 

Males and 2 Females. 
Tlie Country Cousin. For 4 Males and 

2 Females. 
The Carpenter and his Apprentice. For 

8 Males. 
The Yankee Tar's Return. For 5 Males 

and 1 Female. 
The Lawyer, Doctor, Soldier and Actor. 

For 3 Males. 
The Children in the Wood. For 6 

Males and 4 Females. 
T7ie Wizard's Warning. For 2 Males. 

SOcts. 

60cts. 



Kavanaugh's Humorous Dramas for School Exhibitions and 

Private Theatricals. Consisting of short and easy Dramatic Pieces, 
suitable for Amateur Exhibitions. By Mrs. Bussell Kavanaugh, author 
of " The Juvenile Speaker." 



Contents. 



Contents. 



Eh! What is it? , 

That Awful Girl 

The Lady Killer 

How I Made My Fortune. 
A Cure for Obstinancy... 
Aunt Jerusha's Mistake. 



3 2 

5 5 

2 1 
G 

3 9 
2 2 



A Fair Fight 

Between Two Stools. . . , 
The Pet of the School. . 
Maud May's Lovers. ... 

The Heiress' Buse 

The Cardinal's Godson. 



II 

n © 

4 4 

2 3 

8 3 

8 2 

4 4 

6 1 



The foregoing collection of Dramas are all original, and were written ex- 
pressly for School and Parlor performance. 

Boun d in boards 50 cts. 

Paper covers 30 cts. 

Dick's One Hundred Amusements for Evening Parties, 

Picnics and Social Gatherings. This book is fuU of Original Novelties. 

It coutains : 



New and Attractive Games, clearly il- 
lustrated by means of Witty Ex- 
amples, showing hoio each may be 
most successfully played. 

Surpassing Tricks, easy of performance. 

Musical and other innocent sells. 

ALSO AN ENTrBEI/X NEW VEBSION OF THE CELEBBATED ' 
WORKS." 

The whole being illustrated by sixty fine wood engravings. 

Illuminated paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound In boards, with cloth back , 50 Cts* 



A variety of new and ingenious puzzles. 

Comical illusions, fully described. 
These surprising and grotesque illu- 
sions are very startling in their 
effects, and present little or no diffi- 
culty in their preparation. 

MBS. JABJiEY'S WAX 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 

» — — --» 

Madame Le Normand's Fortune Teller. An entertaining 

book, said to have been written by Madame Le Normand, the celebrated 
French Fortune Toller, who was frequently consulted by the Emperor 
Napoleon. A party of ladies ami gentlemen may amuse themselves lor 
hours with this curious book. It tells fortunes by "The Chart of Fate " (a 
large lithographic chart), ami gives G24 answers to questions on every imag- 
inable subject that may happen in tho future. It explains a variety of ways 
for telling fortunes by Cards and Dice; gives a list of 79 curious old su- 
perstitions and omens, and 187 weather omens, and winds up with the cele- 
brated Oraculum of Napoleon. Wo will not endorse this hookas infallible; 
but we assure our readers that it is tho source of much mirth whenever in- 
troduced at a gatheriug of ladies and gentlemen. Bound in boards. 40 Cts. 

jThe Fireside Magician; or, The Art of Natural Magio 

Made Easy. Being a scientific explanation of Legerdemain, Physical 
Amusement, Recreative Chemistry, Diversion with Cards, and of all the 
mysteries of Mechanical Magic, Avi'th feats as performed by Herr Alexander, 
Robert Heller, Robert Houdin, "The Wizard of the North," and distin- 
guished conjurors — comprising two hundred and fifty interesting mental and 
physical recreations, with explanatory engraviugs. 132 pages, paper. 30 cts. 
Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Cts. 

Howard's Book of Conundrums and Riddles. Containing 

over 1,200 of the best Conundrums, Riddles, Enigmas, Ingenious Catches 
and Amusing Sells ever invented. This splendid collection of curious para- 
doxes will afford the materialfor a never-ending feast of fun and amusement. 
Any person, with the assistance of this book, may take the lead in enter- 
; taiuing a compauy, and keep them in roars of laughter for hours together. 

Paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 

The Parlor Magician; or, 0x?e Hundred Tricks for the 

i Drawing-Room. Containing an extensive and miscellaneous collection of 
Conjuring and Legerdemain, embracing: Tricks with Dice, Dominoes and 
Cards; Tricks with Ribbons, Rings and Fruit; Tricks with Coin, Hand- 
kerchiefs and Balls, etc. The whole illustrated and clearly explained with 

121 engravings. Paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 Cts. 

Book of Riddles and 500 Home Amusements. Containing 

a curious collection of Riddles, Charades and Enigmas ; Rebuses, Anagrams 
and Transpositions ; Conundrums and Amusing Puzzles ; Recreations in 
Arithmetic, and Queer Sleights, and numerous other Entertaining Amuse- 
ments. Illustrated with 60 engravings. Paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 Cts. 

The Book of Fireside Games. Containing an explanation of a 

variety of Witty, Rollicking, Entertaining and Innocent Games and Amus- 
ing Forfeits, suited to the Family Circle as a Recreation. This book is just 
the thing for social gatherings, parties and pic-nics. Paper covers. .30 Ct3. 
< Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Ct3. 

The Book of 500 Curious Puzzles. Containing a large collec- 
tion of Curious Puzzles, Entertaining Paradoxes, Perplexing Deceptions in 
Numbers, Amusing Tricks in Geometry; illustrated with a great variety of 

Engravings. Paper covers SO Cts. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back. 50 Ct3. 

Parlor Tricks with Cards. Containing explanations of all the * 

Tricks and Deceptions with Playing Cards ever invented. The whole illus- 
trated and made plain and easy with 70 engravings. Paper covers.. 30 Cts. 
Bound in boards, with cloth back t -™....50 Ctfc 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
Day's Book-Keeping Without a Master. Containing the Rn, 

diments of Book-keeping in Single and Double Entry, together with thfl 
proper Forms and Kules for opening and keeping condensed and general Book 
Accounts. This work is printed in a beautiful script type, and hence com. 
bines the advantages of a handsome style of writing with its very simple an<J 
*asdy understood lessons in Book-keeping. The several pages have ex. 
plauaticns at the bottom to assist the learner, in small type. As a pattern 
for opening book accounts it is especially valuable— particularly for those wh« 
are not well posted in the art. I) ay's BoOJt-KBKPIKG is the size of a regulaj 
quarto Account Book, and is made to he fiat open for convenience is 
use 50 CtS\ 

£ae Young Reporter; or, how to Writa Shorthand. A 

Complete Phonographic Teacher, intended as a School-book, to afiord 
thorough instructions to those who have not the assistance of an OraJ 
Teacher. By tne aid of this work, and the explanatory examples winch 
are given as practical exercises, any person of the most ordinary in- 
telligence may learn to write Shorthand, a^i 1 report Speeches and Sermons 
in a short time. Bound in boards, with cioth back 50 CtS. 

How to Learn the Sense of 3,000 French Words in one 

Hour. This ingenious little book actually accomplishes ah that its title 
claims. It is a fact that there are at least three thousand words in the 
French language, forming a large proportion of those used in ordinary con- 
versation, which are spelled exactly the same as in English, or become the 
same by very slight and easily understood changes in their termination. 16- 
mo, illuminated paper covers 25 CtS. 

How to Speak in Public; or, The Art of Extempore Oratory. 

A valuable manual for those who desire to become ready off-hand speakers ; 
containing clear directions how to arrange ideas logically and quickly, in- 
cluding illustrations, by the analysis of speeches delivered by some of the 
greatest orators, exemplifying the importance of correct emphasis, clearness 
of articulation, and appropriate gesture. Paper covers 25 CtS. 

Iiive and Learn. A guide for all those who wish to speak and 

write correctly; particularly intended as a Book of Reference for the solu- 
tion of difficulties connected with Grammar, Composition, Punctuation, <fec, 
&c, containing examples of 1,000 mistakes of daily occurrenco in speaking, 
writing and pronunciation. Paper, 16mo, 216 pages 30 CtS. 

The Art of Dressing "Well. By Miss S. A. Frost. This book is 

designed for ladies and gentlemen who desire to make a favorable impres- 
sion upon eociety. Paper covers 30 CtS. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 

Thimm's French Self-Taught. A new system, on the most 

simple principles, for Universal Self- Tuition, with English pronunciation of 
every word. Bv this system the acquirement of the French Language is 
rendered less Iaborious'and more thorough than by any of the old methods 
By Franz Thimm, 25 Cfr3. 

Thimm's German Self-Taught. Uniform with " French Self- 

Taught," and arranged in accordance with the same principles of thorough- 
ness and simplicity. By Franz Thimm 25 cts. 

Thimm's Spanish Self-Taught. A book of self-instruction in 

the Spanish" Language, arranged according to the same method as the 
"French" and " German," by the same author, and uniform with them in 
size. By Franz Thimm 25 cts, 

Thimm's Italian Self-Taught. Uniform in style and ske with 

the three foregoing books. By Fraiiz Thimm....,....,,.....;. 25 eta 



Popular Books sent Free ef Postage at the Prices annexed. 



Marline's Sensible Letter-Writer. Being a comprehensive 

unci complete Guide and Assistant for those who desire to carry on Episto- 
lary Correspondence : containing a large collection of model letters on the 

simplest matters of life, adapted to all aires and conditions — 



EMBRACING, 



Letters of Courtesy, Friendship and 

Affection ; 
Letters of Condolence and Sympathy ; 
A Choice Collection of Love-Lcticrs, 

for Every Situation in a Courtship > 
Notes of Ceremony, Familiar Invito. 

tions, etc., together xoith Notes of 

Acceptance and Regret. 



Business Letters ; 

Applications for Employment, with 
Letters of Recommendation and 
1 A nswen to Advertisements ; 

Letters between Parents and Children; 

Letters of Friendly Counsel and Re- 
monstrance ; 

Letters soliciting Advice, Assistance 
and Friendly Favors; 

The -whole containing 300 Sensible Letters and Notes. This is an invalua- 
ble book for those persons -who have not had sufficient practice to enable 
them to writo letters without great effort. It eon tains such a variety of 
letters, that models may bo found to suit every subject. 

2i>7 pages, bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 

Bound" in cloth 75 cts. 

Martine's Hand-Book of Etiquette and Guide to True 

Politeness. A complete Manual for all those who desire to understand 
good breeding, the customs of good society, and to avoid incorrect and 
vulgar habits. Containing clear and comprehensive directions for correct 
manners, conversation, dress, introductions, rules for good behavior at 
Dinner Parties and the Table, with hints on carving and wine at table; 
together with the Etiquette of the Ball and Assembly Boom, Evening 
Parties, and the usages to be observed when visiting or receiving calls; 
Deportment in the street and when traveling. To which is added the Eti- 
quette of Courtship, Marriage, Domestic Duties and fifty-six rules to be ob- 
served in general society. By Arthur Martine. Bound in boards ..50 cts. 
Bound in cloth, gilt sides 75 Cts. 

Dick's Quadrille Call-Book and Ball-Room Prompter. Con- 
taining clear directions how to call out the figures of every dance, with the 
quantity of music necessarv for each figure, and simple explanations of al] 
the figures which occur in Plain and Fancy Quadrilles. This book gives 
pTmi and eornnrehpinsivo instructions how to dance all the new and popular 
dances, fully describing 



The Opening March or Polonaise, 
Various Plain and Fancy Quadrilles, 
Waltz and Glide Quadrilles, 
Plain Lancers and Caledonians, 
Glide Lancers and Caledonians, 
Saratoga Lancers, 
The Parisian Varieties, 
The Prince Imperial Set, 
Social and Basket Quadrilles, 
Nine-Pin and Star Quadrilles, 
Gavotte and Minuet Quadrilles, 



March and Cheat Quadrilles, 
Favorite Jigs and Contra-Dances, 
Polka and Polka Redowa, 
Redowa and Redowa Waltz, 
Polka Mazourka and Old Style Waltz, 
Modern Plain Waltz and Glide, 
Boston Dip and Hop Waltz, 
Five- Step Waltz and Schottische, 
Varsovienne and Zulma L' Orientals, 
Galop and Deux Temps, 
Esmeralda, Sicilienne, Banish Dance, 



AND OVER ONE HUNDRED FIGURES FOR THE " GERMAN ;" 

To which is added a Sensible Guide to Etiquette and Proper Deportment in 
the Ball and Assembly Koom, besides seventy pages of dance music for the 
piano. 

Paper covers v.... k ...;.., 50 eta 

Bound in boards. , .75 cU 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 

Odell's System Of Short-Hand. (Taylor Improved.) By 
■which the method of taking down sermons, lectures, trials, speeches, etc., 
may be easily acquired, without the aid of a master. "With a supplement 
containing exercises and other useful information for the use of those 
who wish to perfect themselves in the art of stenography. Tbe^instruc- 
tions given in this book are on the inductive principle; first showing the 
learner how to get accustomed to the contracted form of epelling words, 
and then substituting the stenographic characters for the contractions. 
By this plan the difficulties of mastering this useful art are very much 
lessened, and the time required to attain proficiency reduced to the least 
possible limits. Small quarto, paper cover 25 Cts, 

Alice in Wonderland, and other Fairy Plays for Children. 
Consisting of Four Juvenile Dramas, the first of which is a faithful Dra- 
matic Version of Mr. Lewis Carroll's well-known "Alice in Wonderland;" 
and all combining, L in the happiest manner, light comedy, burlesque, 
and extravaganza. By Kate Freiligrath-Kroeker. These plays are writ- 
ten in a style of quaint, childish simplicity, but embody a brilliant vein 
of wit and humor. The mnsic of all the songs introduced is given, thus 
rendering each drama complete in all respects. 143 pages, illuminated 

paper cover SO cts. 

Bound in boards , 50 Cts. 

The American Housewife and Kitchen Directory. This val- 
uable book embraces three hundred and seventy-eight recipes for cooking 
all sorts of American dishes in the most economical manner; it also con- 
tains a variety of important secrets for -washing, cleaning scouring and 
extracting grease, paint, stains and iron-mould from cloth, muslin and 

linen. Bound in ornamental paper covers 30 Cts. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts. 

The American Card Player. An entirely new edition, con- 
taining all the improvements, latest decisions, and modern methods of 

% playing the games of Whist, Euchre, Cribbage, Bezique, Sixty-six, Pe- 
auchle, Cassino, Draw Poker, and Ail Fours, in exact accordance with the 
best authorities, with all the accepted varieties of these popular games. 
150 pages, bound in boards, cloth back 50 CtS. 

Draiper's Six Hundred Ways to Make Money. A reliable 

Compendium of valuable Receipts for making articles in constant de- 
mand and of ready sale, carefully selected from private sources and the 
best established authorities. By Edmund S. Draiper. Professor of Ana- 
lytical Chemistry, etc. This Collection of Receipts is undoubtedly the 
aaost valuable and comprehensive that has ever been offered to the pub- 
, lie in so cheap a form. 144 pages, paper cover 30 CtS. 

The Language of Flowers. A complete dictionary of the 
Language of Flowers, and the sentiments which they express. Well ar- 
ranged and comprehensive in every detail. All unnecessary matter has 
been omitted. This little volume is destined to fill a want long felt for a 
reliable book at a price within the reach of all. Paper 15 cts. 

Chilton's One Thousand Secrets and Wrinkles. A book of 

hints and helps for everyday emergencies. Containing 1,000 usefulhints 
and receipts. No family should be without this little storehouse of 
-valuable information.-^ Paper covers 30 CtS. 

The Ladies' Lo^« Oracle i A' Complete Fortune Teller of 
all questions upon Love, Courtship and Matrimony .30 cts. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
Trumps' American Hoyle; or, Gentleman's Handbook of 

Gauie:>. Containing all the games played in the United Suites, with rules, 
descriptions and technicalities, adapted to the American method of play- 
ing. By THUMPS. Thirteenth edition ; illustrated with numerous dia- 
grams. This work is designed and acknowledged as an authority on all 
games as played in America, being a guide to the correct methods ot play- 
ing and an arbiter on all disputed points. In each of the previous editions 
tho work was subjected to careful revision and correction; but this, the 
Thirteenth Edition, is Entirely New, and re-written from the latest' 
reliable sources, it includes an exhaustive treatise on Whist, with all the 
latest essays oil the modern game, by Clay, Pole, Drayson, <Jcc, &c. Also,, 
a lucid description of ail the games now in vogue in America, with the' 
laws that govern them, revised and corrected to conform to present 
usages, and embraces an elab ate and practical analysis of the Doctrine 
of Chances. 12mo., cloth, 53ii pages. Price $2.00 

Dick's Games of Patience ; or, Solitaire with Cards. Contain- 
ing Forty-three Games. Illustrated with Thirty-three explanatory full- 
page Tableaux. This treatise on Solitaire, a pastime which is steadily 
gaining in popularity, embraces a number of new and original Games, and 
all the Games of Patience at present in favor with the most experienced 
players. Each game is carefully and lucidly described, with the distinctive 
rules to be observed and hints as to the best means of success in play. 
The Tableaux furnish efficient aid in rendering the disposition of the 
cards necessary to each game plain and easily comprehensible. The diffi- 
culty usually attending descriptions of intricate games is reduced, as far 
as possible, by precision in method and terseness of expression in the text, 
and the illustrations serve to dispel any possible ambiguity that might 
be unavoidable without their aid. The work is attractive in style and will 
prove an interesting companion for many asolitary hour. Quarto. Illus- 
trated. Paper cover 75 CtS- 

Cloth $1.00 

Blackbridge's Complete Poker Player. A Practical Guide- 
book to the American National Game ; containing mathematical and ex- 
perimental analyses of the probabilities of Draw Poker. By John Black- 
bridge, Actuary. This, as its title implies, is an exhaustive treatise on 
Draw Poker, giving minute and detailed information on the various 
chances, expectations, possibilities and probabilities that can occur in all 
stages of the game, with directions and advice for successful play, deduced 
from actual practice and experience, and founded on precise mathematical 

data. Small quarto, 142 "pages, paper 50 CtS. , 

Bound in full cloth ol.OOi 

The Mod&rn Pocket Hoyle. By " Trumps." Containing al!^ 

the games of skill and chance, as played in this country at the present 
time, being an ■' authority on all disputed points. ' This valuable manual 
is all original, or thoroughly revised from the best and latest authorities,, 
and includes the laws and complete directions for playing one hundred, 

and eleven different games. 388 pages, paper covers 50 CtS. 

Bound in boards, with cloth backs 75 CtS. 

Hoyle's Games. A complete Manual of the laws that govern all 

games of skill and chance, including Cari Games. Chess, Checkers, 
Dominoes, Backgammon. Dice, Billiards, as played in this country at the 
present time, and all Field Games. Entirely original, or thoroughly re- 
vised from the latest and best American authorities. Paper covers. .50 ct"J. 
Boards 75 CtS. 



Sent Free of Postage on Receipt of Price. 

The Art and Etiquette of Making Love. A 

Manual of Love, Courtship and Matrimony. It tells 

How to Cure Basltfidnrss; 

How to i "UMp; 

JIov: to Please a Sweetheart or Lover; 

How to Write a Love-Lctter ; 

How to " Pop the Quest i> 

Hoiv to Act Before and After a Pro- 
posal; 

How to Accept or Reject a Proposal; 

How to Break off an Engagement; 

How to Act After an Engagement; 

How to Act as Bridesmaid or Groom*- 
man; 

How the Etiquette ofaWeddtr nd the 
After-Reception Should be Observed; 

And, in fact, how to fulfill every duty aud meet every contin- 
gency connected with courtship and matrimony. It includes 
also a choice collection of sensible Letters suitable for all the 
contingencies of Love and Courtship. 

176 pages, paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 




Dick's Quadrille Call-Book and Ball-Room 

Prompter. Containing clear directions how to call out the 
figures of every dance, with the quantity of music necessary for 
each figure, and simple explanations of all the figures and steps 
which occur in Plain and Fancy Quadrilles. Also, a plain analy- 
sis and description of all the steps employed in the favorite 
round dances, fully describing : 



The Opening March or Polonaise, 

Various Plain ana Fancy Quadrilles, 

Waltz and Glide Quadrilles, 

Plain Lancers and Caledonians, 

Glide Lancers and Caledonians. 

Saratoga Lancers 

TJie Parisian Yari 

The Prince Imperial Set. 

Social and Basket Quadrilles, 

Nine-Pin and Star Quadrilles, 

Gavotte and Minuet Quadrilles, 



March and Cheat Quadrilles, 

Favorite Jigs and Cmxtra-Dances, 

Polka and Polka Redowa, 

Redowa and Redowa Waltz, 

Polka Mazourka and Old Style Waltz, 

Modern Plain Waltz and Glide, 

Boston Dip and Hop Waltz, 

Five-Step Waltz and Sehottische, 

Yarsovienne. and Zulma £' Orientate, 

Galop and Deux Tr 

Esmeralda, Siciliennc, Danish Danc^ 



AND OVER ONE HUNDRED FIGURES FOR THE 

To which is added 



'GERMAN 



a Sensible Guide to Etiquette and Proper De- 
portment in the Ball and Assembly Room, besides seventy pages 
of dance music for the piano. 

Paper covers 50 Cts. 

Bound in boards 75 cts. 



Scut Free of I'oMtngc on Receipt of Price. 



Uncle Josh's Trunkful of Fun. A portfolio oi 

first- class Wit and Humor, and never-ending source of Jollity. 
CONTAINING A RICB COLLECTION OF 
Niw Conundrums, 



OomicaZ Stories, Cruel Sells, 
$i<h-S/>liitiiui Jobs, 
Humorous Poetry, 
Quaint Parodies, 
Burlesque Sermons, 



Mirth-Provoking Speeches, 
Curious i'uzzlcx. 
Amusing Card Tricks, and 
Astonishing Feats of Parlor- Mag-it.. 




This book is illustrated with nearly 200 Funny Engravings, an£ 
contains 64 large octavo double-column pages 15 cts, 

Barber's American Book of Ready-Made 

Speeches. Containing 159 original examples of Humorous and 
Serious Speeches, suitable for every possible occasion where a 
speech may be called for, with appropriate replies to each. 
INCLUDING 

Variety of 



Presentation Speeches. 
Convivial Speeches. 
Festival Speeches. 
Addresses of Congratulation. 
Addresses of Welcome. 
Addresses of Compliment. 
Political Speeches. 
Dinner' and Supper Speeches 
Clubs, etc. 



for 



Off- Rand Speeches on 

Subjects. 
Miscellaneous Speeches. 
Toasts and Sentiments for Public anu 

Private Entertainments. 
Preambles and Resolutions of Con 

gratulation, Compliment and Con 

violence. 



With this book any person may prepare himself to make a neat 
little speech, or reply to one when called upon to do so. They 
are all short, appropriate and witty, and even ready speakers 

may profit by them. Paper 50 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 75 cts. 



Sent Free of Postage on Receipt of Price* 

The Amateur Trapper and Trap-Maker's 

Guide. A complete and carefully prepared treatise on the art 
of Trapping, Snaring and Netting ; containing plain directions 
for constructing the most approved Traps, Snares, Nets and 
'Dead-Falls ; the best methods of applying them to their various 
purposes ; and the most successful Baits for attracting all kinds 
of Animals, Birds, etc., with their special uses in each case ; in« 
troducing receipts for preparing Skins and Furs for Market. 




•Th-3 entire -work is based on the experience of the most successful 
Trappers, and on information derived from other authentic pro- 
fessional sources. By Stanley Harding. This comprehensive 
work is embellished with fifty well drawn and engraved illustra- 
tions ; and these, together with the clear explanations which ac- 
company them, will enable anybody of moderate comprehension 
to make and set any of the traps described. IT TELLS 

How to Trap or Snare all kinds oj 

Animals,- 
How to Trap or Snare Birds of ev«ry 

description; 
How to Cure and Tan Skins ; 
Mow to Skin and Stuff Birds or 

Animals. 



How to make all kinds of Traps,- 
How to make all kinds of Snares; 
How to Set and Secure Traps,- 
How to Attract Animals from a Dis- 
tance,- 
How to Prepare Baits; 
How to Bait a Trap,- 



It also gives the baits usually employed by the most successful 
Hunters and Trappers, and exposes their secret methods of at- 
tracting and catching Animals, Birds, etc., with scarcely a pos- 
sibility of failure. Large 16mo, paper covers 50 cts 

Bound in boards, cloth back. 75 c ts* 



How to Write a Composition . The use of thishand- 

book will save the student the many ?iours of labor too often wasted in 
trying to write a plain composition. It affords a perfect skeleton of ona 
hundred and seventeen different subjects, with their headings or divi- 
sions clearly defined, and each heading filled in with the ideas which tho 
subject suggests; so that all the writer has to do, in order to produce a 
good composition, is to enlarge on them to suit his taste and inclination. 

J78 pages, paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back t 50 eta. 



Sent Free of Po«tnyc on Receipt of Price. 



The Magician's Own Book, One of the most ex« 

traordinary and interesting volumes «ver printed — containing 
the "Whole Art of Conjuring, and all the discoveries in Magi' 
made, either by ancient or modern philosophers. IT EXPLAINS 



All Sleight of Hand Tricks; 
Tricks and Deceptions with Cards; 
The Magic of Chemistry; 
Mysterious Experiments in Electricity 

and Galvanism; 
The Magic of Pneumatics, Aerostatics, 

Optica, etc.; 
Tk« Magic of Numbers; 



Curious Tricks in Geometry; 
Mysterious u n-.l A m using Puzzles, and 

answers thereto; 
The Magic of Art, 
Miscellaneous Thicks and Expert 

ments; 
Curious Fancies, ele~ eUk. 





The tricks are all illustrated by Engravings and Tables, so as to 
make tb-sm easily understood and practiced. As a volume 
tor the amusement of an evening party, this book cannot be sur- 
Gilt binding, 362 pages " $1.50 



East Lynne ; or, The Earl's Daughter. Li- 
brary edition, complete and unabridged. This novel is Mrs. 
Henry Wood's masterpiece, and stands in the veiy front rank" of 
all the works of fiction ever written; it has scarcely a rival as a 
brilliant creation of literary genius, and is prominent among the 
very few works of its class that have stood the test of time, and 
achieved a lasting reputation. In originality o f design, and 
masterly and dramatic development of the subject, East Lynne 
stands unrivaled ; itrwill be read and re-read long after the ma- 
jority of the ephemeral romances of to-day have passed out of 
existence and been forgotten. A handsome 12mo volume of 
598 pages, trom new electrotype plates, printed on fine toned 
paper, and elegantly bound hi cloth, in black and gold. . .$1,50 



Sent Free of Postage on Receipt of Price. 



The Biblical Reason Why. A Hand-Book ion 

Biblical Students, and a guide to family Scripture reading. This 

■work gives reasons founded upon the Bible, and assigned by 

the most eminent Divines and Christian Philosophers, for the 

great and all-absorbing events recorded in the History of the 

Bible, the Life of our Saviour and the Acts of His Apostles. 

EXAMPLE. 

Why is the book of the Prophecies o) 
Isaiah a strong proof of the authen* 
ticity of the whole Bible f 



Why did the first patriarchs attain 
such extreme longevity? 

Why was the term of life afterwards 
shortened ? 

Why are tiiere several manifest varia- 
tions in names, facts and dates, be- 
tioeen the books of Kings and Chron- 
icles? 



Why did our Saviour receive the name 

of Jesus? 
Why did John the Baptist hesitate to 

administer Vie rite of Baptism to 

Jesus 9 



This volume answers 1,493 similar questions. Beautifully illus- 
trated. Large 12mo, cloth, gilt side and back $1.50 

The Reason Why: General Science. A care- 
ful collection of reasons for some thousands of things which, 

-though generally known, are imperfectly understood. A book 
for the million. - This work assigns reasons for the thousands of 
things that daily fall under the eye of the intelligent observer, 
and of which he seeks a simple and clear explanation. 
EXAMPLE. 



What develops electricity in the 

clouds ? 
Why does dew form round drops upon 

the leaves -of plants? 



Why does silver tarnish when exposed 

to ligkt? 
Why do tome colors fade, and others 

darken, when exposed to tlie sun? 
Why is ttce sky blue? 

This volume answers 1,325 similar questions. 356 pages, bound 
in cloth, gilt, and embellished with a large number of wood- 
cuts, illustrating the various subjects treated of- $1.50 

The Reason Why: Natural History. Giving 

reasons for hundreds of interesting facts in connection with 
Zoology, and throwing a light upon the peculiar habits and in- 
stincts of the various orders of the Animal Kingdom. 
EXAMPLE. 



Why do sporting dogs make what is 

termed " a point"? 
Why do birds often roost upori one leg ? 
WJiy do frogs keep tlieir mouths closed 
jwMle breathing ? 

Why aoes ine wren build several nests, 
but occupy only one ? 
This volume answers about 1,500 similar questions. 
Illustrated, cloth, gilt side and back , £1.50 



Why has the lion such a large mane ? 
Why dots the otter, when hunting for 

fish, swim against the stream ? 
Why do dogs turn around two or tkree 

times before they lie down ? 
Why have flat fishes their upper sides 

dark, and their under sides white ? 



Popular Books sent Free of Po3tage at the Price3 annexed. 



Frost's American Etiquette ; or, Laws of Good Society. 

adensedbut thorough t- tiquetteand its Usages in Amer- 

ica. Containing plain and reliable directions forcorrecl deportmenl in 
every situation and under all circumstances in life, including special 
directions and instructions on the following sub: 



Letters of Introduet, 
Salutes and Salutations, 
Calls. 

-ation. 
Invitations. 
Dinner Company. 
Halls. 

Morning and Evening Parties. 
Visiting. 
Street Etiquette. 
Riding and Driving 
Traveling. 



Etiquette in Church. 

Etiquette jor Places of Amusement. 

Servants. 

■Hotel EtiqUCt/e. 

Etiquette at Weddings. 

Baptisms and Funerals. 

Etiquette xoith Children and at the 

Card Table. 
Vis%ting Cards. 
Letter Writing. 
The Lady's Toilet. 
The Gentleman's Toilet. 



BESIDES OWE HUNDBED UNCLASSIFIED LAWS APPLICABLE TO ALL OCCASIONS. 



Paper covers , 

Bound in boards, cloth back . 



30 cts. 
50 ct» 



Live and Learn; or, One Thousand Wi 

Occurrence in Speaking, Writin? 
Explained. There are hv ' 
deficiencies on many point, 
tongue, and who, by self ti 
such persons tfiis buoL. has be 



for 



es clear rules for the use of Cap- 
itals and Italics. 

It gives plain, general rules for spel- 
ling. 

It gives detailed instructions for writ- 
ing for the I^-ess in the various de- 
partments of nevjspaper and general 
literature. 



It Corrects and Explains 1,000 
takes of Daily Occurrence in \, 
ing, Writing and Pronunciation. 

It Explains the many Per pi 
points that occasion difficulty to the 
student, 

It Explains most of the Latin a?id 
French words and phrases of fre- 
quent occurrence in newspapers, 
magazines and Bonks. 

It shows how to punctuate and para- 
graph correctly. 

213 pages, paper cover 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth baek 50 CtS. 

Confectioner's Hand-Book. Giving plain and practical direc- 
tions for making Confectionery. Containing upwards of three hundred 
Recipes, consisting of directions for making all sorts of Candies, Jellies, 
Comfits, Preserves, Sugar Boiling, Joed liquors, Waters, Guru, Paste and 
Candy Ornaments, Syrups, Marmalades, Essences, Fruit Pastes, Ice 
Creams, Icings, Meringues, Chocolates, etc., etc. A complete Hand-Book 
of the Confectioner's Art. Price 25 Ct3. 

Howard's Book of Love-Poetry. A Curious and Beautiful 
Collection of Tenderly Delicate, Sweetly Pathetic, and Amusingly Quiz- 
zical Poetical Love- Addresses; containing a large number of the most 
admired selections from the leading Poets suitable for quotations in Love- 
Letters, and applicable to all phases and contingencies incident to the 
tender passion. 141 pages 25 Cts. 



gent Free of Postage on Recei pt ot Price* 

**Trump's" American Hoyle ; or, Gentleman's 

Hand-Book of Games. This work contains an exhaustive 
treatise on Whist, by William Pole, F.R.S.. and the rules for 
playing that game as laid down by the Hon. James Clay. It also 
contains clear descriptions of ali the games played in the United 
States, with the Amarican rules for playing them ; including 



&uchrc. Bezique, Cribbage. Baccara, 
All Fours. Loo, Poker, Brag, Piquet, 
Pedro Saitcho.Penachle, Railroad 
EucJu-o. Jack Pots, EoarU, Boston, 



California Jack, Cassino, Chens 
Checkers, Backgammon, Billiard*. 
Dominoes, and st hundred other 



+ + 


,♦ 







This work is resigned as an American authority iu art ^ames of 
skill and chance, and will settle any disputed point." It has 
been prepared with great care, and is not a re-hash of English 
games, but a live American book, expressly prepared for Amer- 
ican players. The American Hoyle contains 525 pages, is 
printed on fine white paper, bound in cloth, with extra gilt sida 
and beveled boards, and is profusely illustrated $2.00 

Spayth's American Draught Player ; or, The 
Theory and Practice of the Scientific Game oi Checkers. 

Simplified and Illustrated with Practical Diagrams., Containing 
upwards of 1,700 Games and Positions. By Henry Spayth* 
•Fifth edition, with over two hundred Corrections $ad. la* 




provements. Containing : The Standard Laws of the Game — 
Full Instructions— Draught Board Numbered— Names of the 
Games, and how formed— The u Theory of the Move and its 
Changes" practically explained and illustrated with Diagrams- 
Playing Tables for Draught Clubs— New Systems of Numbering 
the Board— Prefixing Signs to the Variations— List of Draught 
Treatises and Publications chronologically arranged. 
Bound in cteth, gilt side and back .«,«.•.< .*$&Q0 



Sent Free of Postage on Receipt of Price. 



Silt Lovingood. "Yarns spun by "ANat'rul I 

Durn'd Fool." Warped and Wove fox Public Wear by Gourgo 
Illustrated with eight fine full page ergraring^ 



W. Harris. 




from designs by Howard. It would be difficult, we think, to 
cram a larger amount of pungent humor into 300 pages than wiH 
be found in this really funny "book. The Prefac i 
are models of sly simplicity, and the 24 Sketches which follow 
are among the best specimens of broad burlesque to which the 
genius of the ludicrous, for which the Southwest is so distin- 
guished, has yet given birth. Cloth, gilt edges $1.54) 

How to Conduct a Debate. A Series of 

Complete Delates, 

Outlines of Debates, and 

Questions for Discus, 
In the complete debates, the questions for discussion are de 
the debate formally opened, an array of brr menti 

adduced on either side, and the Tmg to pai- 

liamehtary usages. The second part consists of questions for 
debate, with heads of ai (br and against, given in a 

condensed form for the speakers to enlarge upon to suit theij 
own fancy. In addition to these are 

A Large Collection of Debatable Questions, 
The authorities to betefeiTed* to for inform ation'are given 8 
close of i te. By Frederic Rowton. 

232 pages, paper §0 cts, 

Bound in boards, cioth back. ^ 75 eta 



LbA P ?9 



ffifiSI ° F CONGRESS 



nn „ MM 

0027249 866 






f .v^ 



' a\ 



■ 



■ 



■ 



I 






3«5 

■ 



■ 



■ 



tt 



M/.* 



'i$M!A; 



